


A Ghost Of A Chance

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike is cursed and helping Buffy. Guess who falls in love?<br/>Season 4 implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ghost Of A Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics: Lynyrd Skynyrd, Kid Rock, Rob Zombie  
> Quotes: Wordsworth, Shelley, Anonymous, Malcolm Muggeridge

Prologue

 

Translated from Pawnee

 

"...Bind the beast to the ghost of Nia Mirobi, if she wishes it, and grant her spirit the powers to make his suffering complete. We ask that the penalty for his murderous ways not go unpunished and place upon him this curse to follow her dictates until she believes justice has been served. Then and only then shall the beast be released from the ghost by death of her choosing..." 

 

Part One

 

 

 

"Be glad this placed is closed on Tuesdays," Spike said, working on his laces. "Or in no way would I be allowing this."

 

"Oh come on, Billy, I just want to have some fun before we reach Sunnydale."

 

"Fun?" Spike said, turning to glare at the young woman next to him on the bench. "I listened to that crap you call music for over a thousand bleedin' miles, Nia, all to entertain you. If I heard that Loco song one more time, you'd have no one to annoy, because I'd stake myself." He looked down at his foot, then back at her. "And stop calling me Billy."

 

Nia's dark eyes twinkled with laughter. She pulled her single, black braid over her shoulder, lifted her head slightly and looked down her aquiline, Native American nose. "Stodgy old man."

 

"Who's putting these things on his feet for you?" Spike scowled.

 

"Thank you, Billy," Nia sang.

 

Spike sighed and stood. His ankles turned out immediately and he ended up standing on the sides of his feet. Nia laughed. "Sod off," he growled, removing his duster. He put it on the bench, then walked shakily to the divide in the wall. Once there, he turned and looked at the mid-twenty year old beside him. "Try not to hurt me."

 

"I know how to ice skate," Nia told him.

 

"Yeah, but I don't," he replied. When she smiled at him, he groaned. "Why me?"

 

"Next time, do your homework before you kill someone," she said, then stepped inside his body.

 

Spike hated when his ghostly companion used his body. It felt as though he walked through thick mud as she entered, then he was sitting on a couch in his mind, watching the world through his own eyes, but unable to do a single thing. Nia stepped onto the ice and began to skate and he tried not to consciously watch how fast she was going.

 

Invisible to everyone but him, Nia was a ghost of a young woman he'd had for dinner one night. Like Angelus a century before, the Native American's tribe took offense at what he had done and cursed him, not with a soul, but with a ghost who had the power to keep him on the straight and narrow. He'd felt first hand her powers and still had a burn mark on his side that hadn't fully healed.

 

Spike had spent the first week of their being together in a motel room, ignoring her. By the end of the week of her constant chatter and testing out her powers, including moving in and out of his body, he decided it was better for him if he treated her like an annoying companion. After many months of his testing the limits -- and many painful recoveries because of it - Nia had suggested that since he had to be good, he should be helpful.

 

They had argued for several hours over that until he had finally given in, more to get her to shut up than because he agreed with her. Then she had asked him who he wanted to help and the first person that came to mind was the Slayer. Nia had plucked the image out of his head, much to his annoyance, and they were now in an ice skating rink outside of Sunnydale.

 

He didn't even know if Buffy was still alive or not -- it had been over a year since he'd last been to the Hellmouth. The possibility that she wasn't always brought a strange pain to his stomach, as if he had drank old blood. He knew that he'd miss her if she was gone, like one worthy adversary to another, but that didn't explain the sadness that came over him when he thought of a world without the petite, blond Slayer.

 

However, he'd know soon enough if she was still kicking vampire and demon butt. If Nia didn't kill him first by going at ridiculous speeds around the skating rink in his body.

 

"Oh crap," Nia said in the deep timber of Spike's voice.

 

Spike felt the pull of the ghost leaving him and his eyes widened under his own power. She had left him in the middle of the rink, heading full-speed towards the wall. His arms flailed out as he tried to stop, causing him to lose what little balance he'd retained from Nia. He fell backwards onto the ice, cracking his head on the cold surface. He slid close to ten feet before he stopped and found Nia looking down at him.

 

"Oops, sorry," she said.

 

"Right," Spike muttered, glaring at her, his head pounding. "You could have put me on solid ground first."

 

"Shh," Nia said. "We have company."

 

"That's just bloody great," he grumbled, sitting up and putting a hand on the back of his head. It came away red. "Nia, you split my friggin' skull open."

 

"I said I was sorry," she replied.

 

He went to glare at her again when he saw the woman skating across the ice towards him. With a groan, he laid back down on the cold ice and spread his arms out to the sides. "Somebody stake me, please," he whimpered. The loud scrap of blades against the ice heralded the arrival of the person he'd come to Sunnydale to find. On one hand, he was ridiculously happy she wasn't dead, on the other, she was witness to his graceful flop on the ice.

 

"Why is it bad guys insist on bleeding on my ice?" Buffy asked, coming to a stop beside the prone vampire. "And why is it you can't leave and stay gone?"

 

"I can't seem to stay away from your sparkling wit and personality, luv," Spike replied sarcastically. "It draws me like a spider does a fly."

 

"So you're metaphor man now," Buffy said. "Wonderful. Now stop bleeding and go away. I don't want dust all over the ice, too."

 

"She's cute," Nia commented from the other side of him. "In a wholesome, white-bread kinda way. Are you sure she's the Slayer? She doesn't look strong enough to paint her own nails."

 

Spike turned his eyes to the ghost and glared, then sat up again. He looked at the distance between himself and the exit to the rink. "Bloody hell," he muttered, crawling up onto his knees. He put one unsteady foot on the ice and pushed upwards. That foot shot forward on the blade, sending him into an impromptu split and he hissed when certain muscles were pulled in ways they weren't meant to be pulled.

 

Nia burst out laughing as he fell onto his hip, then sat down. He heard Buffy chuckle, too, and he knew he should have walked out into the sunlight when he'd had the chance. "You could help me," he growled.

 

"This is too much fun," Nia replied.

 

"But you were skating just fine a few minutes ago," Buffy pointed out.

 

"Oh, bugger off," Spike said, speaking to both of them, even though the Slayer only thought he was talking to her. He slowly and unsteadily climbed to his feet, then stood leaning forward, his arms splayed to the sides for balance. When he didn't immediately fall he was relieved, but that relief was short lived when he realized he didn't know how to move. "Er, can I get a push in the right direction?"

 

"Is this just a ploy to get me close enough so you can kill me?" Buffy asked. "If so, it's pretty lame."

 

"I'm not going to bloody kill you," Spike growled. "I just want to get off this friggin' ice."

 

Buffy skated behind him and put her hands on his waist. She lightly pushed him towards the side. They arrived at the divide and Spike grasped the walls and stepped onto solid ground. He let out a sigh of relief and made his way to the nearby bench to take the skates off his feet. He shot a hateful glare to the ghost, who sat down next to him, and she smiled in return.

 

"So, Spike, what brings you back to Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, standing across from him with her arms crossed over her chest. "A death wish?"

 

"If it were that simple," Spike mumbled, unlacing the skates.

 

"What?" Buffy said.

 

"I came to offer you my services, pet," he said.

 

"As what, a Vampires On Ice skater?"

 

"Oh, that's a good one!" Nia laughed.

 

"I thought perhaps as your lover," Spike said, ignoring Nia. "But that would be sacrificing too much for the cause."

 

"Thanks so much," Buffy said sarcastically. "Like I would really want you anyway. You're dead and you have lousy taste in clothes."

 

"I'll say," Nia agreed.

 

"Didn't stop you from letting Angel give you the old leg up," he said, turning his head to shoot Nia a glare.

 

Her eyes narrowed. "Leave Angel out of this."

 

"Why? I'm not afraid of the old ponce," he told her. "Where is the soulful wuss anyway? I thought you dragged him around by his cock-"

 

The punch sent him tumbling off the back of the bench and onto the padded floor. He heard Nia laughing at him as he gave the Slayer a thoughtful look. "Problems in sappyville, ducks?"

 

"That's none of your business," Buffy ground out.

 

"Someone's a bit testy," Spike commented as he righted himself.

 

"Spike, what do you want?" she sighed.

 

"Billy-boy, trouble," Nia said, pointing.

 

Spike looked past Buffy and saw some sort of white creature had almost crept up behind her while he was on the floor. He grabbed one of his discarded skates and stood. "Slayer, duck."

 

Buffy's eyes widened, but she dropped into a crouch as Spike brought his arm back and let loose with the skate. It flew end over end before embedding itself in the creature's chest. It let out a high-pitched scream, then fell to the ice behind the wall. The vampire walked forward and looked over the divide. "'He's dead, Jim.'"

 

"'Good shot, Jensen,'" Nia said, playing the quote game with him. She leaned over the wall beside him. "Your first official good deed for the Slayer."

 

"Second," Spike said absently, watching the blue blood spread from the wound down to the ice.

 

Buffy stood and looked over the wall. "Oh wow," she said.

 

"He's bleeding on your ice," Spike joked, his lips turning up in a wry smile.

 

"Did you...you just..."

 

"Helped you?" he finished. "Guess I did."

 

"But why?" Buffy asked.

 

"I don't even get a 'thank you'?"

 

"Thank you, now why?" she repeated.

 

"I told you I was here to offer my services," Spike replied. He sat back down and began to put his shoes back on.

 

Buffy suddenly put her hand on his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

 

"I'm a bit too dead to have one of those, pet," he said.

 

"Your humor is a bit dead, too," Nia told him. Spike gave her the old 'scratch the side of the head while flicking someone off' gesture. "Childish enough?"

 

"Who are you and what have you done with my Spike?" Buffy asked, a frown on her face.

 

"My Spike?" he drawled.

 

"Oh, shut up," she growled. "The Spike I know wouldn't help me."

 

"I beg to differ, Slayer," Spike said. "I seem to recall a little incident where I helped you save the world."

 

"You helped her save the world?" Nia asked. "That's what you meant by second?" Spike glanced over at the ghost and nodded. "Wowsers. And here I thought you were just a despicable vampire who enjoyed killing innocent, young women by luring them to your bed and draining them while in the throes of passion." She paused and cocked her head. "Oh wait, that was just me."

 

"That's not what happened and you know it," Spike said under his non-existent breath.

 

"Ok, skip the innocent part," Nia said. Spike glared at her again.

 

"Um, Spike?" Buffy said. He turned his attention back to the blond. "Are you for real?"

 

"I'm not Memorex," he teased. "Why don't you go call your Watcher about this..." He gestured to the creature. "Thing. There may be more and I'd like to be prepared."

 

"Ok," she replied, walking away. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him, then shook her head and continued out of the rink.

 

"Bugger," Spike sighed. "I'm going to be another Angel. This bloody bites."

 

"It's your teeth that got you into this to begin with," Nia pointed out.

 

"Nia, shut your yap for awhile, will you?" he said.

 

"Boy, someone's testy,"she said. "You'd think that you were a evil vampire forced to do good deeds or something."

 

Spike didn't dignify that with a comeback. 

 

*****

 

"Giles, it is so wiggy," Buffy said into the phone. "He helped me. Ok, granted, it's not the first time he's done it, but still..."

 

"And you are certain this is Spike?" Giles asked over the line.

 

"I thought Invasion of the Body Snatchers right away, too," she replied. "But he doesn't look like Donald Sutherland."

 

"Do you think his offer of assistance is sincere?"

 

"Don't know," she said. "He could just be setting up some big, hokey trap."

 

"Well, until we, er, ascertain his intentions, we shall need to keep an eye on him," Giles said.

 

"Do that friends close, enemies closer thing," Buffy agreed. "Got it."

 

"In the meantime, dispose of the body and then meet me back here," he instructed. "I shall research on what type of-of creature you have described."

 

"Will do, Giles," Buffy said. "See you soonly."

 

She hung up the phone and headed back for the rink, curious as to if Spike would still be there or not. When she had arrived at the rink earlier, an activity she normally did on Tuesdays, courtesy of prompting from Angel not to stop, she had been surprised to find someone else at the closed establishment. Her surprise had grown tenfold when she had recognized Spike skating in circles around the rink, sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards.

 

Then he had fallen suddenly and smacked his head on the ice hard enough that it echoed in the rink. She had winced and skated over to him to see if he was alright, then mentally hit herself for being worried about Spike of all people. When her hands were around his waist as she guided him back to the edge of the rink, she had tried not to ogle his butt. It hadn't helped that his black jeans fit snugly to his body, or that they were slightly wet from landing on the ice. At the turn of her thoughts to Spike's rear, she decided she really needed to date more.

 

Walking back to the rink, she paused in the entryway and frowned. Spike looked like he was talking to himself. Then she amended her assessment -- he looked like he was talking to someone, but no one was there. Wondering if Drusilla had rubbed off on him, she continued into the rink and picked up a snippet of one-sided conversation.

 

"...I guess we could bother the tosser at the mansion. There's enough rooms in that bloody place to house the Vienna Boys Choir."

 

Buffy watched as he stopped speaking, as if he were listening to a reply, then he continued.

 

"I did too see them. Dru wanted to keep one as a pet to sing for her."

 

Buffy thought perhaps his head connecting with the ice had jarred something loose. "So, Spike, who're you talking to?" she asked, calling attention to her presence.

 

Spike turned quickly, a surprised look on his face which quickly melted into aloofness. "What did your Watcher say?" he asked instead of replying.

 

She arched her brow, but dropped her inquiry. "He said to lose the body," she replied. "And since you've self-appointed yourself helpful-boy, you can have that job."

 

"Why thank you, Slayer, you're too kind," he said, picking up his duster and sliding it on before moving carefully out onto the ice.

 

Buffy giggled as she watched him struggle and trying not to fall. After his fifth attempt to pull the body across the ice, she took pity on him and skated onto the rink. Grabbing the creatures arms, she skated backwards and dragged it and a blue line of blood to the hard floor. "You can take it from here, Spike. I'm going to get my shoes on and jet."

 

Spike turned his head to the area next to her and glared, then asked, "Do you need a ride, pet?"

 

Buffy looked to where he was looking, but saw nothing glare-worthy. She glanced behind her with the same results. "Um, no, that's ok," she replied, growing steadily more uncertain of his mental stability. "I'll walk."

 

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Slayer?" Spike said, a mocking grin on his face.

 

"Not," she said. "You're about as scary as my stuffed pig, only he doesn't cry."

 

"I don't cry," he scowled.

 

"Then you must've had something really big in your eyes last time you were here," she said sweetly. She turned and headed back out of the rink. "Bye Spike."

 

As she left, she heard him growl, "Bloody woman. And you, shut your hole before I make you walk."

 

"What a strange, strange vampire," Buffy said to herself. "Now why didn't I stake him when I had the chance?" 

 

Part Two

 

 

 

"Honey, I'm home!" Spike yelled as he and Nia entered the mansion. When he didn't get an answer, he frowned. "Snookums?"

 

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Nia said, walking further into the main room. She turned on the lights. "Wow, this place is huge."

 

"I know," Spike replied, heading for the master bedroom.

 

"I'm going to go explore," she called to him.

 

"No wonder the Slayer hit me," he commented upon finding no clothing in the bedroom. He chuckled, his mood improving with the fact that his sire was AWOL. "Sayonara, Angel."

 

Returning to the main room, Spike wrinkled his nose at the dust covering everything. He may be dead and far from a neat vampire, but some things bothered him. "Nia! Wave your bleedin' magic wand or whatever and get rid of this dust!"

 

Nia came around the corner from the hall to the other bedrooms. "I'm not your maid. Clean it yourself."

 

He turned puppy dog eyes on her. "Please?"

 

"Oh brother," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think you got this whole punishment thing wrong." She made a gesture with her hand and the dust vanished throughout the mansion. "I'm suppose to make you do things, not the other way around."

 

"I like my way better," he joked, then flopped down on the now-clean couch.

 

"So, what's your plan, oh sultan of the undead?" Nia asked, perching on the arm beside him.

 

"Feed, sleep, shag...," he trailed off when Nia glared at him and gave her a shameless grin. "I figured we'd find the Slayer after we stop by the butcher's and stock up. Peaches has to have a fridge around here somewhere."

 

"My guess would be the kitchen," she said.

 

Spike shook his head and stood. "Electricity is still on, so my bet is the water is, too. Try to get lost while I clean up. I won't miss you."

 

"You are just too funny, Billy," Nia told him.

 

"My room's the third on the left, you can have any of the others," Spike said as he left the room. He paused and scowled over his shoulder at her. "And stop calling me Billy."

 

"Whatever you say...Billy!"

 

Spike sighed and headed back to the bathroom. He didn't have to worry about the ghost popping upon him unexpectedly, unless he tried to do something stupid, like escape through a window. He figured she had some sort of magical radar on him that let her know where he was at all times. They had an unwritten agreement that she would not bother him when he was either in the bathroom or in his own bedroom, which was why when they changed motels, he'd gotten a suite. He could only spend so much time with her before he wanted to claw his eyes out in frustration.

 

It wasn't that Nia was a bad companion. In fact, Spike understood pretty quickly that he had gotten off light when he was cursed to be haunted by her for however long she decided. Of course, he'd be dust when she decided justice had been served, so he wanted her to haunt him for a very long time, because he liked unlife, even if he had to be good. He could still be bad while being good, it just took creativity. A high threshold for pain helped, too.

 

The one problem that he had with Nia, other than the fact that she kept calling him Billy, was that she very much enjoyed putting him in a position where he would make a fool of himself, like at the skating rink when she suddenly left his body. It was too bad the demon inside him didn't seem to notice when the ghost was inhabiting him, because he'd love for it to rough her up a bit so she'd stay out of him. Luckily, she now asked before she invaded, so he was prepared for it.

 

After a quick shower, he went to the dust-free bedroom that had been his those few months he'd lived here. The bedroom he'd found refuge in while Drusilla cavorted like a bitch in heat with her daddy. The bedroom where he worked his ass off to finish building back the strength in his legs. The bedroom where he planned his sire's downfall.

 

Throwing himself on the bed, Spike stared up at the stippled ceiling and reined in his anger over events in the past. The past was the past and there was no changing it, so there was no use getting upset over it. He growled and flipped over onto his stomach, then pulled the pillow over his head. A short while later, he fell into a deep sleep. 

*****  
Buffy was unaware of the ghost watching her as she crept into the mansion around mid-morning. The Slayer hadn't been to the hulking residence since Angel had left and was surprised at its cleanliness. She would have figured that a thick layer of dust would have been over everything.

Moving silently, she prowled around the main rooms, then down the hallway, searching for Spike. Her stake was drawn and ready to be used like it should have been the previous night. She could hardly believe that she hadn't even attempted to fight him, let alone end his unlife. Instead, she had conversed like he wasn't a member of the evil bloodsucker sect.

 

She saw bare feet first when she opened the third door on the left. They were face down on a dark bedspread, which was on large bed she could see from the doorway. Slowly, she opened the door further and was treated to more bare skin coming into view. Muscular calves, the pale backs to knees, thighs...

 

Buffy froze with the door blocking her view of anything higher. Her mind was telling her that seeing her enemy sans clothing was not something she should do. Her hormones and everything else that made her a red-blooded woman were screaming at her, telling her to get her butt in that bedroom and check out the obviously fine specimen of male. After a brief debate, the woman won over rationality, and she entered the bedroom.

 

"Oh my," she breathed. Spike was completely nude, lying face down on the bed, arms around the pillow his head laid on. Arms in which the biceps and triceps were well-defined, his forearms muscular and powerful. She let her eyes travel over his shoulders and down the strong line of his back to the firm buttocks and back to those thighs she'd stopped at moments before.

 

Tearing her eyes from his sexy backside, she studied his face. Part of it was blocked by his strong arm holding the pillow, but what she could see was relaxed in sleep. His lashes were long and dark, creating shadows beneath his eyes. His cheekbones were sculpted and the part of his nose she could see straight and fitting for his face. The scar splitting his brow was the only thing stopping him from being too perfect, giving him a bad boy edge.

 

She wondered what he would feel like when she ran her hands over him, then violently shoved the naughty thought away. She did not want to touch him. She did not want too see if his butt was a firm as it looked. She did not want to feel those thighs pressed against hers. She did not want to feel those thighs in between hers. She did not want him to turn over so she could see the rest of him.

 

She was lying to herself.

 

"Damn," she said under her breath, tucking the stake up her sleeve. She couldn't kill him. Not while he was so scrumptiously naked and asleep in bed. A bed that was big and dark and looked like it was created specifically for passionate nights of skin touching skin. Touching his skin. Feeling his skin against hers. Feeling him inside of...

 

Buffy turned and fled.

 

The ghost that had been watching and listening to the Slayer's thoughts laughed delightedly. "This is going to be such fun." 

*****

"It always amazes me how bloody oblivious people in this burg are," Spike commented, white plastic bag hanging from his fingers. "Isn't anyone suspicious of a request for four quarts of animal blood at eight-thirty at night?"

 

"Maybe they're used to it," Nia suggested, walking beside him, her steps silent on the street. "Didn't you say that Angel bought from there?"

 

"He'd had to have," he replied. "Unless he was copping from the infirmary."

 

"I don't think his soul would let him do that," she said.

 

Spike shrugged. "Probably not. Now me on the other hand..."

 

"Don't even think it, Billy goat," Nia warned.

 

"It's not like they use it a-aaarrhh." Spike clamped a hand over his right side as he bent double in pain. "Nia."

 

Nia dropped her hand. "I said not to even think it."

 

"I was joking, woman," he growled, untucking his shirt to look at the damage the ghost had caused. She'd hit the same spot he had the healing scar, only now the area was blackened and had the odor of charred flesh. "Bloody hell, Nia. I'm never going to heal if you keep that up."

 

"Then don't push my buttons," Nia told him. She resumed walking, her hands in the pockets of her never-changing, loose, cotton dress she'd been buried in. It was an off-white color, fitted with dark brown piping along the simple, scooped collar, the cuffs of the puffed sleeves and along the ankle length skirt. Her black braid swung behind her as she walked, brushing the middle of her back.

 

Spike grumbled under his non-existent breath and caught up with her, leaving his shirt half-untucked. "After I get this stuff back to the mansion, we'll set about finding the Slayer," he said, changing the subject.

 

"Won't be too hard," Nia said. "Seeing as she's right there."

 

The blond vampire raised his head sharply and saw the object of his non-affection walking up the street towards them. "Damn," he swore, shifting the plastic bag behind his back. "You could have warned me sooner."

 

"And ruin my fun?" she said with a smile. "No chance, Billy Bob."

 

"Stop calling me Billy," he growled at her, then put on a sardonic grin for Buffy. "Hello, Slayer. Fancy meeting you out and about."

 

"Nighttime, sacred duty, ring any bells in that empty head of yours?" Buffy said. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "So, who have you been eating? Anyone I know?"

 

"Why, pet, I'm hurt," he said dramatically. "What makes you think I'd do something like that?"

 

"Cut the crap, bleach-head," she snapped. "I don't know why you're really here or what stupid scheme your pea brain thought up, but you have five minutes to get out of my town or I will give you a wooden enema."

 

"I'd like to see that," Nia said, grinning ridiculously.

 

Buffy stormed passed him, then stopped and turned around rapidly. "What do you have behind your back?"

 

"Er, nothing," Spike lied, shifting the bag behind his back. She would have to notice. He also wondered what her outburst was about. He had been on his best behavior and everything.

 

"Spike." The Slayer's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What. Is. Behind. Your. Back."

 

"I like her," Nia commented. Spike saw the ghost lift her hand and then heard the bag rustling behind him.

 

"I have to go, luv," Spike said quickly, gritting his teeth together so as not to look at Nia. "I'll meet up with you later."

 

"Now, Spike," Buffy growled at him.

 

Spike did what any man, vampire or mortal, did when faced with an angry woman. He turned tail and practically ran. "Bye, Slayer!"

 

Of course, most men didn't have a ghost haunting them like Spike did, who's greatest source of amusement was embarrassing him. The bag handles suddenly broke, sending the bag thudding to the ground, miraculously -- or not, considering the source of the break - landing without falling onto its side. Then Spike tripped over air, falling face first towards the pavement just past the bag. He landed with a hard smack of his hands and his knees cracking painfully on the ground.

 

"Nia," he hissed, listening to the ghost's laughter.

 

He heard Buffy's footsteps towards him. "Clutzy much?" she asked.

 

Pushing himself up, Spike got to his feet the same time the Slayer got to his bag. "Oh, bugger," he sighed as she pulled out one of containers. He looked beyond her to Nia and muttered, "Thanks a lot."

 

"My pleasure," Nia said, curtseying.

 

"This is blood from the butcher's shop," Buffy gasped. "Angel used to go..." She looked up at him. "Why do you have this?"

 

"I thought I'd take up finger painting," Spike replied sarcastically. Buffy studied him silently and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable by her scrutiny. He glared again at Nia and hoped that she was reading murderous thoughts about her.

 

"Were you serious about helping me?" Buffy finally asked.

 

Spike dropped his gaze to the Slayer and met her eyes squarely. "Yes."

 

"And I take it by this..." She put the container back into the bag. "You don't feed from humans anymore."

 

"Either that or I found a new method of draining them," Spike said with a smirk.

 

Buffy stood and wiped her hands on her pants. "One hour. Outside the old high school," she said, then turned and walked away.

 

Spike watched her retreating form until she turned the corner down a side street, then he sighed again. Why wasn't unlife ever simple? He picked up his broken bag and, with a glowering glance at Nia, turned and headed in the opposite direction.

 

Nia grinned and called out innocently, "What did I do, Billy?"

 

"Stop calling me Billy!" 

 

Part Three

 

 

Buffy looked over the rubble that was the old Sunnydale High School. They had gotten lucky. Only twelve had been killed during the Mayor's ascension; but to Buffy, that was twelve too many. Nothing had been built on the site, even though over six months had passed, and she doubted anything ever would. Too many bad vibes from the Hellmouth located directly below what remained of the library.

 

She sighed and looked around for the familiar peroxide-blond head of Spike. She couldn't believe what she had seen earlier. Spike -- naked...

 

The containers of blood were confounding, too.

 

But, Spike -- naked...

 

Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of the picture firmly embedded in her mind of the vampire laying front down on his bed, his strong, lean body begging for her touch. Begging for her to taste his skin by running her tongue up his spine and watch him shiver because of it. Begging her to find out if she could make him...

 

"Stop, stop, stop," Buffy told herself firmly. "You are not that hard up for a guy that you should be drooling over an obnoxious vampire who can't even follow the simplest of instructions! So what if he's sexy? There are all sorts of sexy guys on campus. And they have a pulse, too!"

 

Her stern lecture to herself did nothing to dispel her lustful thoughts about Spike. With another sigh, she forced herself to look around once more for the vampire in question. She wondered what was up with him. Not feeding from humans, wanting to help her, tripping over air and falling flat on his face...

 

The last one puzzled her. If she hadn't been standing right there, she would have sworn he really did trip over an object in the road, or perhaps been pushed. He was normally quite graceful, moving from place to place with a predator's confidence, fighting with a fluidity that she envied at times. And he looked so very yummy naked.

 

"Enough with the naked already!" Buffy growled to herself. She shoved her hands violently in the pockets of her jacket and glared down the street. It was good timing, for she saw Spike heading towards her in the distance.

 

The shadows of the destroyed school kept her hidden from view, giving her a chance to observe him without his noticing. His step was sure and full of cocky confidence, daring anyone to challenge him from walking down the street. She noticed the way he kept scanning the area around him, searching for other predators of the night, as a good fighter did.

 

Then she saw him stop, face right and start arguing with the air. He raised his hand and shook a finger at the non-existent person he was talking to and then glare at the empty space as if receiving a reply.

 

"Ok, this is way wig-worthy," Buffy said quietly to herself. She watched as Spike threw his hands in the air in a mimic of defeat, then continue his way towards her. When he did nothing out-of- sorts again, she made her presence known by stepping into the street where he would be able to see her. 

*****  
"There she is," Spike said under his non-existent breath. "Now, will you please try not to destroy what little dignity I have left?"

"I'll try," Nia replied. "It won't be easy, though. You're are so entertaining."

 

"Watch the telly," he muttered.

 

"No cable," she said.

 

Spike bit back his sigh and plastered a cocky grin on his face. "Slayer," he said pleasantly, reaching the petite blond. He surveyed the ruins of the high school. "Your work?"

 

"Well, I burned down the gym at my first high school," Buffy replied with a small shrug. "I figured I had to top that."

 

"I'd say you did a right good job at that," he commented. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, more out of a need to occupy his hands than because of the nicotine. "So, pet..." He let the sentence dangle, expecting her to finish it.

 

"You want to help," Buffy stated. He nodded. "Are we talking slaying vampires or just watching my back or what?"

 

"Whatever you wish, luv," he answered.

 

"Are you sure that you're Spike?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

 

Spike sucked in an unneeded breath as her hair fell away from her neck, baring it in an enticing manner. A bolt of longing shot through him, longing to mark her as his, to nuzzle that bit of flesh as she lay under him, her naked body pressed against his. Never before had he had this instantaneous of a reaction to anyone, mortal or otherwise.

 

Yes, he had lusted after the Slayer in the past. Who wouldn't? She was a sexy bundle of muscle and softness -- petite and powerful. Everything one would look for in a lover and that was before seeing her fight. Once seeing her strong, sure movements, there was no choice in thinking about what she would be like in bed.

 

But to want to mark her? To possess her as his own? The Slayer? Perhaps Nia had messed with his mind a little too often.

 

"Hello? Spike?" Buffy waved her hand in front of his face. "Anyone home?"

 

"Do what?" Spike said, snapping back from his thoughts.

 

"You zoned," Nia told him. "Naughty, naughty, Billy. Thinking about her like that."

 

"Sorry, Slayer," Spike said, wondering why he wasn't in pain since Nia had read his thoughts. Necks and his fangs were off limits as far as the ghost was concerned, even in thought. "And yes, I'm certain I'm the Spike you know and love to hate."

 

"Right," Buffy drawled out. She pulled a extra stake out of the back waistband of her pants. "Well, if you want to help, there are some things you want to know."

 

Spike looked at the stake warily. "Such as?"

 

"First of all, they pay is lousy," she said, then grinned. "And the job has a tendency to suck the social life out of you."

 

"Mine's been pretty dead lately, so no worries," Spike joked back.

 

Buffy groaned and held out the stake. "Second, this is a stake. The stake is your friend. Anything that has fangs and goes 'grr', use it on them."

 

"She's...what do you call it? Cheeky?" Nia commented.

 

"I think I know what a stake is, pet," Spike said, taking the whittled wood from Buffy.

 

"Third," Buffy continued, holding up three fingers. "If I look like I could use a hand, don't hesitate to give it. Same goes for any of the others."

 

"Others?" Nia asked.

 

Spike turned to answer Nia, then caught himself and returned his attention to Buffy. "Help your chums, right. Anything else?"

 

"Yeah, this is strange to the extreme," Buffy said. "I can't believe that you want to do this."

 

"You've already inferred that five bloody times, Slayer," Spike said. "You're starting to sound like a broken recording."

 

"Isn't it suppose to be 'a broken record'?" Nia asked.

 

"Isn't it suppose to be 'a broken record'?" Buffy said.

 

Spike lowered his head and rubbed his eyes as Nia chuckled. "Swell," he muttered. "Worse than bleedin' parrots."

 

"What was that, Spike?" Buffy asked.

 

"Nothing, pet," Spike replied. He pushed up his sleeve and looked at the watch-face on his inner wrist. A watch Nia had made him get in order to be on time to the pictures. Ones that she chose, of course. He'd had to sit through Never Been Kissed six times with her in his body so she could taste popcorn and other fang-rotting treats.

 

"It's ten now," he said. "Prime hunting time."

 

"And you would know," Buffy said. He shrugged, a half-grin tugging his lips. "Well, come on then. Let's go see if you're trying to sell me some ocean-front property in Arizona."

 

As she started to walk away, his eyes dropped to her backside. He smiled wolfishly.

 

Being good was going to have some benefits. 

*****  
"Slayer, straight up!"

Buffy crouched and jumped straight up into the air, catching the tree branch and swinging up onto it at Spike's yell. The three vampires that had been about to charge her crashed into each other, falling to the ground in a heap. She grabbed her stake and threw it at one of them. It embedded in the vampire's heart, sending him to a dusty death.

 

Spike grabbed the vampire he was fighting and threw him against the tree Buffy was in. He ducked as another one took a swing at him from behind. He lashed out with his leg in a back kick, catching the vamp mid-chest and sending him staggering back. The one against the tree punched him as he straightened. He blocked the second strike with his forearm and plunged his stake into the vampire's chest.

 

Buffy made a quick survey of the fight. Between the two of them, they'd already dusted five vampires. There were four left, two of the three that charged her and two going after Spike. With a predator's grace, she dropped down from the tree on top of one of the vampire's shoulders as he stood. They both fell to the ground and she went into a forward roll, rolling up to her feet.

 

She spun and kicked the second one across the jaw, as she let another stake drop out of her sleeve to her hand. She reached out and grabbed the first attacker's hair as he was getting to his feet. She slammed his face down as she thrust her knee up, cracking him in the face. She sensed rather than saw the second one coming up behind her, and she kicked straight back and up.

 

Spike punched, blocked and punched again, keeping one eye on the Slayer, as he fought the remaining two vampires attacking him. With a vicious jab, he clipped the vampire in the throat, then shoved the stake into his heart. Without pause, he leapt forward at another foe, his duster billowing out behind him at his quick movements.

 

Buffy staked the vampire behind her with a quick, sharp twist of her body before he knew she even did it. As he exploded into dust, she returned her attention back to the one on his knees in front of her. She backhanded him with her left hand, following immediately with a punch by her right, the stake still clutched in that hand. Her foot shot forward in a dirty move, kicking him between the legs. He let out a strangled cry, bending forward to cup himself, and Buffy jammed the stake through his back.

 

She turned in a circle, checking for more opponents, and saw Spike stake the last one of their attackers. She relaxed and brushed her hair back from her face. "Looks like that's all of them."

 

"Is this normal, Slayer?" Spike asked, dropping the stake into the pocket of his duster. He glanced over at Nia, who was sitting on top of a headstone, and she showed her approval by a polite round of clapping.

 

"Sometimes," Buffy replied. "If there's more than four or five, I usually take the cowards way out and run like hell."

 

"No cowardice in knowing when to fold," Spike told her.

 

"Did you get that out of a fortune cookie, Billy?" Nia asked.

 

Spike scowled at the ghost, then walked over to Buffy. "Now what, pet?"

 

"Now Buffy goes back to the dorm, changes clothes, then does that late night study/snack session," Buffy replied. "I have a history test tomorrow at ten."

 

"Do you need a ride?" he asked, falling into step beside her as they left the cemetery.

 

"Normally, I'd say no because I don't accept rides from strangers and no one gets any stranger than you."

 

"She has you there," Nia commented.

 

"But...," Spike prompted, ignoring the ghost.

 

"But I really don't want to walk all that way after our Lost Boys fight," Buffy finished. "Plus, I think you've proven you do want to help. At least, for now."

 

"My motor's at the mansion," he said. "That's where I'm staying, in case you need to find me."

 

"She knows," Nia said with a giggle. Spike looked questioningly at the ghost, who was walking on the other side of him. She grinned and giggled again.

 

"I was surprised not to find the hair-miester in residence," he said, shaking his head slightly at Nia's laughter.

 

"Angel's in LA," Buffy informed him.

 

At the resignation in her voice, he asked, "I take it that's a permanent arrangement?"

 

"Like a stake in the heart," Buffy replied sullenly.

 

"I'm sorry," Spike told her, truthfully. He knew first hand about love lost. Drusilla was in Europe, living the vampire high-unlife with everyone that wasn't him. When she'd gone, first he had raged, then he had cried, then he had let her go.

 

"'S-ok," she said with a shrug. "It was inevitable. I said yes, the curse said no, so off he went." She blew out a breath of air. "Curses suck.

 

" "You're telling me," Spike muttered.

 

"I think I'm the one that got cursed, not you, Billy-boy," Nia said.

 

Spike ignored Nia and the three lapsed into silence until they reached the mansion. "Give me a second, pet," he told Buffy before walking into the hulking monstrosity. The moment the outer door closed, he turned to Nia. "Let me drive her without you."

 

"Fat chance," Nia snorted.

 

"Nothing's gonna bloody happen," Spike said. "I just want to drive her without having you hanging over my shoulder."

 

"Uh, hello, reality check," Nia said, waving her hand. "You don't get a choice."

 

"It's just a fucking ride in the car!"

 

"And I said fat fucking chance!"

 

"Uh, Spike?"

 

"What?!" Spike whirled to the door and saw Buffy standing their with a startled look on her face.

 

"Nothing," Buffy replied. "I think I'll, um, walk."

 

"No," he said quickly. Then he took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly. "That's ok. I'm ready to go."

 

She gave him an unfathomable look, then nodded. He gestured to the open door and waited until she went out it before glaring at Nia. "Thank a lot, bitch."

 

Nia lifted her hand. "You're welcome, jackass."

 

Spike growled in pain and grabbed his hand. When she dropped hers, he looked at the back of his burned hand, then flicked her off with it. Then he stormed out the door and slammed it behind him. 

 

*****

 

Part Four

 

Buffy glanced out of the corner of her eye at the vampire beside her. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white, and he kept glaring daggers at the rear view mirror. Every so often she would look into the back seat, wondering what he could be angry at.

 

She had heard him yelling from outside the door earlier when she'd wanted to get a glass of water before they left. She was surprised to find him alone and then again when he snapped at her for no reason. Something wasn't right in Spike-land and she aimed to find out exactly what it was.

 

"Turn left up here," Buffy said as they approached the back road to her dorm. He nodded, then she saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel the same time his back stiffened. He glared in the rear view mirror for a long moment, then returned his eyes to the road in time to turn. She looked behind her. "What's up with the convenience store robber routine?"

 

"What?" Spike asked, turning a puzzled frown on her.

 

"You keep looking behind us. Should I be worried?"

 

"Er, no," he replied. He gave her a half-smirk. "Too much caffeine."

 

"Uh-huh," Buffy said, skeptically. She glanced out the open side window. "Second building on the right."

 

"So this is your home away from home, eh?" he asked, pulling up to the curb and shutting off the motor. "Looks institutional."

 

"What gave it away, the matching stained curtains from the seventies in every window?" Buffy joked.

 

Spike chuckled and climbed out of the car. Buffy frowned at his empty seat, then was pleasantly surprised when he opened her door. "M'lady," he said, holding out his hand and executing a half- bow.

 

"Since when did you get manners?" Buffy asked, taking his hand and allowing him to help her out of the car.

 

He shut the car door with his foot and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "They were always there, sweet," he said, patting her hand, as they started for the door. "Just cleverly disguised as rage and violence."

 

"Have I told you that you were strange? If not, you're strange," she said. She rolled her eyes at his lopsided grin, took a deep breath and sighed. "I so do not want to study."

 

"What's the topic again?" he asked.

 

"Nineteenth century romanticism," she answered.

 

"'Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:  
Come, hear the woodland linnet,  
How sweet his music! On my life,  
There's more of wisdom in it.'"

 

Buffy stopped walking and looked at him. "What was that?"

 

"Wordsworth," Spike replied with a wink. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed again.

 

"Let me guess, you're an expert at nineteenth century romanticism," Buffy said.

 

"Considering I was around during the nineteenth century and your ex was a bloody toff, I'd say a little," he replied.

 

"You're hired."

 

"What?" Spike asked, giving her a confused look.

 

"You, my dear in-need-of-a-bleach-job vampire," Buffy said, changing their arms so hers was linked through his. "Are going to tutor me tonight in history."

 

"I are?"

 

"You are," she replied with a firm nod of her head.

 

"Shut up, Nia." Buffy heard him mutter, but shrugged it off, as she dragged him towards her dorm.

 

*****

"I don't love you no more," Buffy said, a pout forming on her face.

"Come on, Slayer. You know this," Spike prodded. He was sitting at the desk in the small dorm room, his feet propped on the fake-wooden surface, Buffy's history text in his lap. Buffy was on her bed, sitting cross-legged in her 'comfy clothes,' a pair of track pants and tank top. "Name the five major poets of the age of romanticism."

 

"Um, Wordsworth...Keats," Buffy replied. "Er, Byron?"

 

"That's three," he said with a nod.

 

Buffy thought for a moment. "Oh! That Sir Walter guy."

 

"Scott," Spike agreed. "One more."

 

"She's never going to get it," Nia said. Spike turned casually to the ghost sitting on Willow's bed and pinned her with a glare. "She's not. You've been over this how many times now?"

 

"Uh, I don't know," Buffy said, falling forward and face in the comforter. "I'm such the uber- moron."

 

"Told you," Nia said.

 

"Shelley is the last one, pet," Spike told Buffy.

 

"I'm never going to remember him," Buffy whined.

 

"'Sometimes  
The Devil is a gentleman.'"

 

Buffy raised her head. "That describes you."

 

Spike's lips curled up in a smile. "It should. He wrote it about me."

 

"No way," Nia said.

 

"No way," Buffy said, straightening.

 

"He did," Spike said. "I met him in a pub around 1815. Bought him a pint, chatted with him, flashed a bit of fang at him out on the street later and he said that."

 

"You ate Shelley?" she said incredulously.

 

"No, I didn't eat Shelley." He scowled at her. "I was only playing around with the git. Besides, Angelus was calling after me like I was a bloody pup..."

 

"And you went like a good doggie," Buffy teased. She tapped her lips with a finger. "I wonder. If you ate him, would he have become one of the romantic poets?"

 

Spike laughed and Buffy smiled at him. "Cor, pet, that's an idea. I wonder who I killed over time that could've been someone you had to study."

 

"Billy me boy, not liking the direction of this conversation," Nia warned.

 

Spike barely caught himself before telling the ghost to sod off. He thumped the textbook with the pen in his hand and changed the subject as ordered. "Well, Slayer, I think you've got everything pretty much down."

 

"You mean we're done?" Buffy asked hopefully.

 

"Yes, we're done," he replied.

 

"Yay!" she exclaimed, bouncing her head in a childish manner. "No more studying, no more studying."

 

"Your Slayer is not all there upstairs, is she?" Nia commented.

 

Spike scratched his neck, flicked her off, and scratched his neck again so as Buffy wouldn't notice. He'd happily kill Nia again if he could. Only he was allowed to insult the Slayer.

 

"You're getting possessive in your old age, Billy."

 

"Stop reading my mind," he muttered under his non-existent breath. "And stop calling me Billy."

 

"Anything you say, Billy," Nia replied with a salute.

 

Spike closed the textbook and set it on the desk. He glanced at his watch and was surprised at how late, or rather early in the morning, it was.

 

"Well, luv, I'd better go," he said to Buffy, rising to his feet.

 

"Yeah, I should get some sleep so I don't snooze through the test," Buffy said. "Not after you romanticized me like crazy."

 

He chuckled and headed for the door of the small dorm room. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Slayer."

 

"'K," Buffy replied.

 

Spike paused in the open doorway and looked back at Buffy. Her hair was falling out of its haphazard ponytail and she was freshly scrubbed of all makeup. His heart would have skipped a beat if it was active and he quoted:

 

"'For she was beautiful -- her beauty made  
The bright world dim, and everything beside  
Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade.'"

 

Buffy blushed prettily. "Who wrote that?"

 

"Shelley," Spike replied. Then he gave her a small smile and pulled the door closed behind him. 

*****

"You are pathetic," Nia said as she popped up out of nowhere beside him when he was almost out of the dorm.

 

"Sod off," he growled.

 

"'Oh fair, Slayer. How do your big hazel eyes bat at me,'" Nia said dramatically. She changed her voice to high falsetto. "'Take me, Billy. Wrap your big, manly fangs around me.'"

 

Spike growled again, shoving open the main doors to the dorm and storming out into the night. "I said sod off."

 

"'The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling  
For you but not for me.  
O Death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling,  
O Grave, thy victoree?'"

 

"Will you give it a bloody rest already?" he hissed. He practically wrenched his car door off. "Cor, it's bad enough that I have to put up with your snide comments about me, but I draw the bleedin' line at you making fun of the Slayer!"

 

"Billy's gotta crush, Billy's gotta crush," Nia sang. She disappeared and reappeared in the front seat, then continued. "Billy's gotta crush."

 

"STOP CALLING ME BILLY!!" Spike yelled at her after he got into the car. He jammed his key in the ignition, started the car, then peeled away from the dorm.

 

"Woah, slow down there, cowboy," she said. "I wouldn't want you to kill yourself before I had the chance to kill you."

 

Spike abruptly pulled over to the side of the road and he faced the ghost. "Listen, you stupid sow, I am sick of this haunting bullocks. Either end my unlife or shut the bloody hell up and leave me alone for awhile."

 

"You don't get a choice, Billy," Nia said calmly. "The curse is a punishment, it was not placed on you because my tribe had nothing better to do one Friday night. Do you know what the definition of punishment is?"

 

"I just bet you're going to tell me," he said sardonically.

 

"It means that I can do whatever the hell I want with you and you have no say over it, understand?"

 

"Loud and clear," he spat.

 

"Good," Nia stated.

 

Spike pulled the car back onto the road and headed back for the mansion. He planned on hiding out in his room for the next sixteen hours to try and reign in his anger. Even though he said for her to kill him, he really wasn't ready for permanent death yet. Especially not since he'd forgotten how beautiful the Slayer really was.

 

"Billy and the Slayer, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Nia sang quietly.

 

"Sod off," Spike muttered. "And stop calling me Billy."

 

"Yes, Billy." 

 

Part Five

 

 

Spike kissed up Buffy's inner thigh, moving ever closer to the source of the musky smell that was driving him wild. The Slayer spread her legs further apart, giving him access and a perfect view of her dark pink folds and the dark curls protecting her womanhood. He slid his lips along her heated skin, bring his mouth within centimeters of tasting her. He raised his eyes to gaze at her anticipatory face...

 

...And found Nia standing beside the bed, watching.

 

"AAAHHH!" Spike yelled, sitting bolt upright in bed. The sheet that had been over his nude form fell around his waist as he looked wildly around the room. Faint daylight came through the dark curtains over the single window.

 

Running a hand through his short hair, he took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly. "Bloody hell," he cursed, shaken by the dream. It wasn't the first one, either. Almost daily, in the month that he'd been helping Buffy, he'd had erotic dreams of himself and the Slayer which were ruined by the ghost suddenly appearing.

 

Since his blow up in the car with Nia, he'd managed to get back on an even keel with her. She agreed not to torture him too often when he was working with the Slayer, for which he was grateful. It made it easier for him to help the petite blond and it gave him a chance to get to know her better.

 

Spike fell back onto the pillow and folded his hands on his stomach. He let his mind travel away from the disturbing aspect of his dream to the Slayer herself. She was such a bundle of contradictions. Smart and naive. Soft and hard. Weak and strong. Rough and gentle. Loving and deadly. One moment he wanted to fight with her, the next he wanted to make love to her.

 

Nia insisted that he was falling in love with Buffy, to which he scoffed at. There was no way he would ever fall in love with the Slayer, despite her being incredibly sexy and sensitive and so enjoyable to be around. He'd been in love before and look where that had gotten him -- stuck in Sunnydale helping someone who, conceivably, should be his enemy and haunted by a ghost who insisted on calling him Billy. He'd rather have his fangs pulled and take a bath in holy water than fall in love again. 

*****

Buffy looked down at the picture she was doodling in her notebook during lecture and moaned quietly. While she was no artist, there was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones or the devilish glint in the eyes of the face she had drawn. She purposely turned the page, only to find it covered with drawings of the same type, however with more detail and sometimes a lot less clothing.

 

She put her hand over her eyes and whimpered slightly. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to get Spike out of her mind. He invaded her thoughts and daydreams during classes and walked, or rather strutted, beside her every evening. Then when nighttime came along and it was time for her to sleep, she was plagued with dreams that were so erotic, she woke up flushed and wanting him and having to take extremely cold showers.

 

It didn't help that he was fun to be around since he was not killing anyone but the bad guys. She had gotten an A- on her history test and, when she'd recruited him again to help her with English, she'd gotten a B+ on the test, both grades she never expected she would see. Her average tended to stay in the low B-/high C+ range because of her slaying duties. But, because of his help and her enjoyment in studying with him, she'd gotten better grades.

 

Academic wise was by far the least reason she enjoyed his company. He was witty, more intelligent than she'd ever given him credit for and a hopeless romantic -- which was really strange, considering he was a demon - who knew more poetry by heart than her English professor. He loved hard rock and classic rock, and sang really off-key when he was in a silly mood. One time, he was so hyper, he practically bounced between the trees and headstones like a vampire pinball. That was a very interesting night.

 

The only thing she had yet to figure out was why he would sometimes glare at nothing or mutter something so quietly, she barely caught it. She had talked to Giles about it, but he did not have an answer. Xander had helpfully suggested that a century of living with Drusilla and a century before that with Angelus had made him "zick in ze head." Willow's suggestion made more sense; his odd actions were something he'd always done, but she hadn't noticed because they weren't the best of friends before Spike had returned to Sunnydale.

 

Buffy was happy to put up with his oddities because of his help with slaying. Her job was ten times easier with him than without him. She was able to go after bigger groups of vampires and having someone watching her back who could easily take care of himself was wonderful. She loved her friends and Giles, but sometimes she was too worried about them being hurt than she was of doing what she was suppose to be doing.

 

Of course, she tried to convince herself that was the only reason she put up with Spike. However, her dreams and doodles told her otherwise. Especially the one of the heart with the words 'Buffy + Spike' written inside of it she'd just spotted on the page. She whimpered again and thudded her head on notebook a couple of times, hoping to knock some sense into her.

 

The only thing it did was make the professor call on her. 

*****

"Nia, my favorite ghost," Spike called as he emerged from his bedroom. "Where are you?"

 

Nia looked at him with an arched brow from her seat on the couch in the main portion of the mansion. "What's up with you?"

 

Spike hopped up on the edge of the couch, swinging his legs around so his rear was on the arm and his feet were on the cushions. After his disturbing erotic dream had woken him up, he'd managed to fall back to sleep again for a record five more hours. Five hours of perfect, dreamless sleep. He felt wonderful, cheerful, giddy, jubilant, ecstatic, energetic, joyous, silly, happy, marvelous...

 

"Oh no, you're hyper," Nia realized, dread in her voice. "This is not good."

 

"I'm not hyper," Spike said, scowling at her. He began to bounce his toes off the couch cushion.

 

"Right," Nia said. "And I'm not a ghost."

 

"I," he said, pausing dramatically. "Am going to go to the mall. There's a new recording I want to get, which means you," dramatic pause, "are to be on your best bloody behavior."

 

"What about your Slayer?"

 

"What about her?"

 

"Duh, helping her," Nia said. "Or have you forgotten your reason for still living, Billy?"

 

"Stop calling me Billy," Spike told her. "And the Slayer has some stupid dance thing to go to at nine, so I'm as free..." He suddenly launched into song. "As a bird now. And this bird you cannot cha-a-a-ange..."

 

"Someone kill me," Nia whimpered, holding her head in her hands.

 

Spike smirked at her. "Too late."

 

*****

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," large sigh, "no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

 

Nia stared at Spike as he flipped through CD after CD in the music store. He was driving her crazy, which was what she was suppose to be doing to him. If she wasn't already dead, she'd happily throw herself in front of a fast-moving truck just to put herself out of misery.

 

Spike didn't get completely hyper too often because he couldn't sleep long enough to get that way; but when he did, look out. He was worse than a five-year-old on Christmas morning after Santa had visited.

 

"Billy, you do realize that people are looking at you," Nia said.

 

Spike looked up from his perusal of the CDs to see a teen in another aisle practically laughing at him. With a wicked smile, he flashed his true face and the teen bolted from the music store. He chuckled. "Not any more."

 

A new song began to play over the stores speakers and the blond vampire began to sing along with it. Luckily, in Nia's opinion, he was singing to himself, rather than belting out the lyrics as he did on the walk over to the mall. "'Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie. Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie.'"

 

"Oh god, not this song," Nia sighed. She looked around for some way to get him to stop singing as he continue to flip through the CDs.

 

"'And this is for the questions that don't have any answers  
The midnight glancers and the topless dancers  
The gang of freaks, cars packed with speakers  
The Gs with the forties and the chicks with beepers  
The Northern Lights and the Southern Comfort  
And it don't even matter if your veins are punctured  
All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics  
And all my heros in the Methodone Clinic  
All you bastards at the IRS.'"

 

Spike was oblivious to Nia's search for her sanity. He was glad the store was playing something he recognized, rather than the crud they'd been playing when he'd first arrived. He picked up the new Nine Inch Nails CD and looked at the back as he continued singing.

 

"'For the crooked cops and the cluttered desks  
For the shots of jack and the caps of meth  
Half pints of love and the fifths of stress  
For the hookers all trickin' out in Hollywood  
And for the hoods of the world misunderstood  
I said it's all good and it's all in fun  
Now get in the pit and try to love someone!'"

 

Nia saw her savior just passing outside of the store with a bag in her hand. Appearing at her side, the ghost did something she had not tried before -- talking to someone other than Spike.

 

"Buffy," she projected to the blond. "Buffy can you hear me?"

 

Buffy stopped and looked around. Nia grinned. "Buffy, go into the music store."

 

"Is someone talking to me?" Buffy said, turning in a circle.

 

"Please go into the music store," Nia said, slightly begging.

 

Buffy looked at the music store with a frown. She took a hesitant step towards it, then shook her head and started down the hall again.

 

"Buffy, Spike wants you in the music store," Nia said, hoping that would get the blond's cooperation.

 

"Spike?" Buffy said. She looked back into the music store and a smile crossed her face.

 

Nia breathed a sigh of relief as the Slayer headed into the store. Perhaps Spike would calm down because of Buffy's presence and stop driving her up a wall. 

*****

Buffy giggled when she heard Spike singing along to the song over the store speakers. His head was slightly bobbing to the beat and he was using two hands to flip through CDs, one of which was hooked over his wrist by the security holder.

 

"Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie  
For the love, and for the hate  
And for the peace  
WAAAAR!!'"

 

She started to clap and his head shot up. She gave him a mocking look and he grinned sheepishly. "Hello, luv," he said.

 

"Are you going to sing an encore?" Buffy asked sweetly.

 

"No," Spike said as a new song came over the speaker. "But I will dance."

 

"Wha-Spike!" Buffy exclaimed when the blond vampire pulled her up against him.

 

"Think of this as practice, Slayer," Spike told her. Then he began to rock their hips back and forth erotically, keeping her molded to him as the song filtered down into the store.

 

Dead I am the one, exterminating son  
Slipping thought the trees, strangling the breeze 

"Um, Spike, this isn't a dance song," Buffy tried to protest.

 

Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry  
As they slowly turn, conquering the worm

 

"Then we won't dance," Spike replied with a shrug, not letting her go. He gave her a wicked grin. "Think of this as sex with clothes on."

 

Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula  
Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula

 

Buffy couldn't believe he said that. She couldn't believe that she was aroused by it. She couldn't believe she was still rocking against him as the song continued to play.

 

Dead I am the pool, spreading from the fool  
Weak and want you need, nowhere as you bleed

 

Of course, Spike would know the words and would have to lean forward so he was practically growling them in Buffy's ear. She was going to melt into a puddle on the floor any moment. Either that, or she was going to do something extremely arrest-worthy. It was still up in the air.

 

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat  
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

 

"Oh god," Buffy breathed, her knees going weak as Spike began to purr. He slid his hand up her back until it was between her shoulder blades, his other one was wrapped tightly around her waist. He brushed her hair off of her neck with his nose, then nuzzled the long column as he continued to purr erotically. "Oh god."

 

Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula  
Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula

 

She no longer had any logical thoughts in her mind. All she knew was that the man dancing so wickedly with her was turning her into a quivering mess. Her eyes fell shut and her neck tilted slightly, giving him more access. His purr became abruptly louder for an instant, then fell back into its soft, teasing noise.

 

Dead I am the life, dig into the skin  
Knuckle crack the bone, twenty-one to win

 

"Hey, you two, enough of that."

 

Buffy's eyes shot open and she saw the store manager glaring at them with his arms folded over his chest. She slapped Spike on his shoulder and he raised his head from her neck. "Stop," she hissed. "We're going to get kicked out."

 

"Sounds like fun," Spike told her in a low, husky voice. His mouth curled up in a predatory smile.

 

Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry  
Devil on your back, I can never die

 

"If you two aren't going to buy something, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the manager said.

 

Spike sighed dramatically and released Buffy. He turned and showed the man the CD on his wrist. "I'm going to get this, you-" Buffy cleared her throat loudly. "-Sir."

 

"Then I suggest you do it now," the manager stated.

 

Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula  
Dig through the ditches  
Burn through the witches  
I slam in the back of my Dragula

 

Buffy nodded. "Yes. We'll buy it now. Right, Spike?"

 

"Er, right," Spike agreed. Buffy took his arm and led him towards the registers. When they got there, he plunked the CD on the counter and dug several crumpled bills out of his pocket. While he waited to be rung up, he tapped his fingers on the counter.

 

Buffy studied him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't believe he had just practically mated with her standing in the middle of the music store -- and she was all but screaming "fuck me, baby!" If the manager hadn't interrupted them, she may have done just that.

 

She had no clue what possessed her to come into the place to begin with. She still had to pick up the dress she had on lay-a-way down the hall for the dance. She glanced at her watch, then swore. "Damn. Spike, I have to go."

 

"Why?" Spike asked, his voice sounding very childish.

 

"I have to get my dress before the store closes," Buffy answered. Plus, she really needed to get away from him before she suggested they find some remote corner and pick up where they were interrupted. "I'll see you tomorrow night, ok?"

 

She rushed out of the store without waiting for an answer. 

 

*****

Part Six

 

Spike examined the window in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment's contemplation, he dug out a credit card he'd stolen long ago, but only used for this sort of activity.

 

"Billy, tell me you aren't going to break into the Slayer's room," Nia said.

 

"I'm not going to break into the Slayer's room," Spike said, sliding the hard plastic up under the window.

 

"Now, why do I think you're lying through your fangs?" Nia asked.

 

The lock slowly slid over and Spike grinned. Dropping the card back into the depths of his duster pocket, he pushed open the first floor window. He gestured dramatically inside. "Women and ghosts first."

 

"I should hurt you for this," Nia grumbled as the vampire climbed through the window. She disappeared and reappeared sitting on Willow's bed. "Breaking and entering is not on the good behavior charts."

 

"So hurt me," Spike said with a shrug. "It's not going to stop me from doing this."

 

With a grin still plastered on his face, he pulled his Rob Zombie CD out of his pocket and walked over to the stereo. He put the CD in the player and set it for continuous repeat on track three, then adjusted the volume so it was loud enough to be heard, but not to disturb the neighbors. He was a courteous vampire.

 

"You're a nut," Nia muttered.

 

"'Dead I am the one, exterminating son,'" Spike began to sing as he set the case on top of the stereo. He ran his hand across Buffy's comforter as he walked over to her desk. He grabbed a notebook off the shelf bolted to the wall and dropped it on the middle of the desk, then drummed on it with his hands. "'Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry...'"

 

Pulling out the chair, he took a seat and opened the middle desk drawer in search of a pen. He found a clear box of colored paperclips and took it out. Opening the box, he began to hook the different colored clips together in a chain for all of two minutes before he got bored. He draped it around his neck, closed the box and stuck it back in the drawer, then removed a pen.

 

He tapped on the edge of the desk with a pen and his finger like drumsticks before he shut the drawer and opened the notebook. "Blank page, blank page, blank page," he said as he turned each filled notebook page, searching for an empty one. His leg bounced rapidly under the desk. "Blank page, blank page, bla-...well, what do we have here?"

 

"Hopefully her plan to stake your hyper-active hide," Nia commented.

 

Spike didn't pay any attention to Nia, he was too busy examining the page in front of him. He reached over and turned on the desk lamp for better lighting than just that coming through the open window. "Now, this is quite interesting," he murmured, his ego swelling as he looked at the sketches. Sketches of him, according to the little captions under each one. Lots of them. In various poses. Was that one of him laying naked on his bed, asleep?

 

"Cor, it is," he realized, leaning forward to look closer at the picture. The caption read: "It's not fair." He wondered what was not fair and if he really looked like that when he was sleeping. If so, it was no wonder the ladies tended to stare at him like a piece of chocolate. He was damn good looking.

 

Nia snorted. "Not."

 

"Sod off," Spike told her, continuing his perusal. He saw a little heart in the corner of the page and sat back abruptly, surprised. He couldn't have seen what he thought he'd seen.

 

"What did you see?" Nia asked.

 

"Nothing," he said quickly, his eyes heading for that little heart again. It was still there. It hadn't been his imagination. It created a strange, mushy feeling inside of him that he wasn't sure if he liked or not. It felt like any second he was going to heave.

 

He sat, unmoving, staring at the little heart for several minutes -- an amazing feat for his currently hyper-active self. The song repeated itself again and his mind slipped back to earlier when he'd been playing with the Slayer. She had smelled so very good, felt even better pressed flush against him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor and make love to her. He had started to purr to tease her, but when she tilted her neck purposely for him, his purr went from teasing to loving.

 

"Oh fuck," Spike swore, his eyes widening as it hit him. "Bloody fucking hell."

 

"What's wrong, Billy?" Nia asked.

 

"Stop calling me Billy," he said in a stunned voice. It couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true.

 

Or did he?

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, leaning his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. One simple, joking action designed to make the Slayer flustered had an unforseen circumstance attached to it. It was almost reminiscent of how he got cursed.

 

Only he had killed Nia, not fallen in love with her.

 

"Bugger," Spike sighed resignedly. It was true. He was in love with the Slayer.

 

Now, what was he going to do about it?

 

As he uncapped the pen, a smile spread over his face. He turned to a fresh page in the notebook and began to write. 

*****

Buffy inserted her key into her dorm room door and yawned tiredly. The dance had been fun; a nice, relaxing way to spend a Friday night, but she felt as though something were missing the entire time. It wasn't as if things had changed, Willow was still with Oz, Xander was the single girl-crazy fool and she was single, as well. They had laughed and danced and did the same things they'd done at the previous dances, but things seemed off.

 

Not bothering to worry about it, she opened her door with the intent of going straight to bed. Instead, she froze in the doorway as music drifted to her from her stereo.

 

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat  
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

 

It would have to be that verse. Her knees turned to liquid as she was immediately transported back several hours to the music store. She grabbed the doorframe and steadied herself before she swooned.

 

"Get it together, Buffy," she told herself firmly. Straightening, she flipped on the light, entered her dorm room and closed the door behind her. Willow was staying with Oz that night, so she would have the room to herself. She set her purse and keys on the small dresser, then moved to the stereo on a stack of crates beside it. The Rob Zombie CD case was sitting on top of it and she picked it up, unable to help the quirk of her lips.

 

"Spike, you are...well, I no longer know what you are, but whatever it is, you're it." She put the case down and pressed stop on the player. She knew she should be mad that he had been in her room, but instead she felt pleased that he would go through all the trouble to do something like this -- even if it was a little on the silly side. Unless he was sending her a message.

 

That thought caused her knees to weaken again. Could he want her like she wanted him in the store? Did she want him to want her like that? "No, I do not," she stated.

 

Her body called her a liar and her mind wasn't too far behind.

 

With a frustrated sigh, she turned off the stereo and kicked off her shoes. She turned to grab her pyjamas off the bed and stopped when she saw a notebook sitting in the center of it, surrounded by a paperclip chain. Rounding the side of the bed, she smirked at the paperclips and picked the open notebook up.

 

The first thing she noticed was Spike's handwriting. It was a combination of printing and cursive, angled the wrong way because he was left-handed. She rolled her eyes when she saw he had addressed it 'Slayer' instead of her name. She wondered if he would ever call her Buffy. Maybe he would while they were in the crux of orgasm...

 

Buffy violently pushed that thought away with a blush staining her cheeks. She turned her attention to reading the note, rather than fantasizing about the writer.

 

Slayer~

 

"It has to be admitted that we English have sex on the brain, which is a very unsatisfactory place to have it."

 

Tomorrow, one o'clock, at the mansion. A much better place, don't you agree?

 

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, her breath catching in her throat. That was all the note read, but it said so much more. Spike did want her as much as she wanted him. She didn't know whether to rejoice or run.

 

And she only had until tomorrow at one to decide. 

*****

"My headstone is going to read: 'Here lies the Slayer, she died either fighting vampires or sleeping with them,'" Buffy muttered, as she approached the mansion's front door. She smoothed down her skirt in a nervous gesture, then did the same with her upswept hair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

 

She had spent the rest of the night and most of the morning tossing and turning in bed. What sleep she did get was filled with dreams so hot, she woke up panting and sweating. By eleven, she decided to forget thinking and go with what her body wanted her to do -- give herself to Spike. She'd spent the rest of the time getting ready for zero hour.

 

Her dorm room looked like a disaster area in her attempts to find something to wear that was sexy and easy to remove, but not slutty. She finally settled on a simple black knee-length skirt and a man's Oxford dress shirt with the top three buttons left open. Underneath she was wearing a white, lace bra that gave her more cleavage than she normally had and matching panties. On her feet were thin-strapped, black heels.

 

Buffy put her hand on the doorknob and sent a silent thought of apology to Giles, who was going to maxi-wig when news of her liaison with another member of the undead reached his ears. Then she opened the door and went inside.

 

A surprise met her right at the door. Lit candles made a path in the curtained mansion from the front door towards the hallway. Flower petals were scattered along the same path, the scent of jasmine and roses hitting her senses. After closing the door behind her, she followed the trail to the bedroom she knew belonged to Spike. Through the partially open door, she could hear soft music and she could see more candles. She pushed the door open further and saw Spike across the room, standing in the shadows, as he held the dark curtain back so he could look outside.

 

He must have heard her because he turned his head. A slow, seductive smile spread across his lips and he released the dark curtain. He swung back into place over the window, blocking out the daylight and allowing the only illumination to be the candles scattered throughout the bedroom. He moved with sure, steady steps towards her, his bare feet silent on the floor, the dark slacks he was wearing molding to his legs with each step.

 

Buffy swallowed heavily as he stopped directly in front of her. He was wearing an open black button-down over and equally black t-shirt, a testament to his bad boy persona. With her thick, three-inch heels, she was almost the same height as him and she had no choice but to meet his gaze directly.

 

Spike's eyes were like twin pools of water reflecting a cloudless, bright blue sky. They glowed with intensity and barely suppressed passion. She found herself being drawn into them, her face moving closer to his on its own accord. She stopped three inches from her mouth being pressed to his and unconsciously licked her lips.

 

Then the intensity in his eyes was replaced by the intensity of his kiss. She absently heard the door close behind her before she felt his arms move around her. His hands splayed against her lower back and the back of her head, holding her as his mouth melted together with hers. His tongue lightly brushed her lips before it dipped inside to sweep against hers.

 

Sensations bombarded her. Everything became clearer and at the same time more fuzzy. She could hear the whisper of his shirt brushing against hers, but the music faded away. The scent of the candles disappeared under the purely male scent of the man holding her. Where he touched her, her skin felt like it was on fire despite the layer of material between his hands and her body.

 

His kisses consumed her. She had no coherent thought in her mind, she could only feel the coolness of his lips, their firmness, the possessiveness of them as they claimed hers. His tongue demanded and coaxed and asked all at the same time, causing her to cling to him as her body went weak with desire. Her pulse was racing beneath her skin, her breathing was erratic, her muscles were quivering with the spiral of tension that was building within her.

 

Spike's hand slid down from her lower back over the curve of her buttock and he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the hard length of his erection beneath his pants and she moved her hips in a small circle, rubbing herself against him. He tore his mouth away from hers and inhaled sharply, the sound music to her ears. She opened her eyes to meet his and she visibly shook from the hunger she saw in his gaze.

 

Somehow, she ended up on the bed with him, their clothing a pile on the floor, the candlelight highlighting their naked bodies. His hands caressed her, his lips and tongue tasted her, his cool length pressed against her. Her body hummed under his ministrations and when he nudged her legs apart, she accepted him without hesitation, opening herself for his loving.

 

Their eyes met and held as he thrust into her for the first time. She gasped at the sensation of his shaft stretching her, filling her. He growled deep in his chest, the sound rolling across the room like thunder. Then his mouth was upon hers again, his tongue plunging between her lips, and he began to move.

 

She felt like she was flying and fighting and exploding and dying. Her legs were hooked over his and he was pressed almost flush against her, his muscular forearms on either side of her. Her arms were around his back, her fingers rubbing along his skin, trembling with every stroke that brought her closer to the edge.

 

He shifted and she felt his hand move between them and then his fingers touching her most sensitive spot. She ripped her mouth away from his with a harsh gasp as the world dropped out under her and she fell into an orgasm so intense it burned her from the inside out. Her body shuddered and quaked and trembled under him as she drowned in a sea of colors and feelings.

 

She barely heard his guttural snarl or felt his body tense over her or his shaft pulsing deep inside of her as he climaxed. She couldn't catch her breath or open her eyes or even move. If the world was on fire, she'd have no choice but to let it burn.

 

The first sensations she felt afterwards were cool, soft kisses on her forehead, on both of her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. Next, her heart slowed enough for her to pick up quiet purring and then she felt the vibrations from his chest pressed against hers. Finally, she was able to open her eyes to find that heaven looked a lot like Spike's bedroom.

 

Spike's mouth continued placing kisses along her jawline, the purring growing louder the closer he got to her ear. He kissed the tender spot right behind the lobe and his purr stopped only to emit words that were spoken so softly, if his mouth hadn't been at her ear, she never would have heard them. "I love you, Buffy."

 

In her heart, she knew immediately she had no choice but to love him, too.

 

Her hand moved up to brush the back of his hair and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder before telling him so. His purring stopped, the room falling into silence save for the soft music she'd forgotten was playing, and he raised his head. Startled blue eyes met her hazel ones and he stared as if he were searching for the truth to her words.

 

Then a smile brighter than any sun she'd ever seen appeared and she suddenly found herself on top of one trembling vampire, still intimately connected, as he held her tightly to him. When their lips met again, it was with a tenderness that can only be born from love. 

 

Part Seven

 

 

Spike couldn't believe he told Buffy he loved her. Granted, he had been thinking it and he'd just had mind-blowing sex, so he wasn't in full control of his facilities, but he shouldn't have said it. It wasn't that it wasn't true and she had responded in kind, which meant that everything was good, but still... What if she hadn't felt the same way? What if she had was only caught up in the moment? What if she had only said it because he had said it? What if she only said it and didn't mean it?

 

He had to get out of the bedroom. He had to think. He had to run far away. He had to blow out the candles before something caught fire. Was she snoring?

 

Spike glanced down at the woman curled up against him. Yes, she was snoring. A light little feminine snore that made a smile curl up his lips. She looked so peaceful and content. She looked so very beautiful. She looked like she'd just made love or had won a really vigorous fight. He needed to blow out the candles.

 

Carefully, he extracted himself from under her and climbed out of the bed. He adjusted the covers over her, then picked up his pants and slid them on. He blew out all the candles in the bedroom except for two, turned off his portable stereo and paused at the end of the bed to look at the sleeping Slayer.

 

He couldn't believe he told her he loved her. He had only figured it out for himself the night before and his first reaction had been to curse. Why hadn't she cursed? Why hadn't she figured it out for herself? Why did he tell her? Why did she say she loved him back? Why was he standing and looking at her when he had candles to blow out?

 

Spike's feet cracked as he quickly made his way to the door. He opened it and reared back, startled. Nia was standing across from the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him before hissing, "You almost bloody scared the demon right out of me."

 

Nia grinned. "That would have been an interesting sight."

 

He glared at her, then bent to pick up the candle next to the door and blew it out. He set it down and picked up the one on the other side of the door, then blew it out. He set it down, walked forward three feet, picked up the candle on the left side of the hallway, blew it out and set it down again. He turned and picked up the candle on the right side of the hallway...

 

"What's wrong, Billy-boy?" Nia asked. "You're concentrating awful hard on blowing out those candles."

 

"Nothing," Spike said quickly. Of course, that was a lie. He told Buffy he loved her. She told him she loved him. He didn't know if it was true. He didn't know if she was lying. He didn't know if she knew if she was telling the truth. He didn't know if she knew if she was lying. He didn't know why the hell he had lit so many damn candles.

 

"Oh, this is fun," Nia commented. "You're even more hyper after sex then you are after sleeping too much."

 

"I'm not hyper," Spike told her, grabbing yet another candle and blowing it out.

 

"Whatever the term is then," Nia said. "And you told her that you loved her? Already?"

 

"Like you didn't know," he scowled. "Bloody peeping ghost."

 

"I did not listen in on you two," she said. "I promised that your bedroom was your sanctuary. I would only know if you tried to munch on her. I'm not into porn."

 

"Go away," Spike said.

 

Nia waved her hand and the rest of the candles went out. "Not on your unlife, this is too much fun."

 

Spike put the candle in his hand down, then stomped to the kitchen. He practically ripped the refrigerator door off before he grabbed a container of blood and plunked it down on the counter. Nia appeared on the counter beside the container and he jumped back. "Bloody hell, Nia!"

 

"You really need to relax," Nia said seriously. The grin on her face belied her serious tone.

 

"You need to leave me the fuck alone," he growled.

 

"Never going to happen," she stated.

 

Spike rubbed a hand over his face and wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him into a little pile of ash.

 

"15.7 seconds."

 

"Bugger off."

 

"Hey, I left you alone all morning while you pranced around lighting candles and throwing flower petals everywhere," Nia said. "Well, I really left you alone because it was so amusing. I still don't believe that you went out into the garden in the sun to get those flowers."

 

Spike didn't believe that he did that, either. He had wanted everything to be perfect for some odd reason. Flowers seemed like a good idea at the time. Flowers were a good idea anytime. Women liked flowers. Nancyboys like his sire liked flowers. Would Buffy like a flower? Maybe he should go out and get one. He could put it on the night-stand where she would see it when she woke up. But what if she didn't like flowers? She could be the one woman who didn't...

 

"Oh, for pete's sake," Nia said. She waved her hand and a flower appeared in front of Spike on the counter. "Will you just give her the flower and stop thinking about it? I'm the one who's suppose to annoy you, not the other way around."

 

"Stay out of my head and you wouldn't have a bleedin' problem," Spike told her. He picked up the white daisy and headed back out of the kitchen.

 

He came to an abrupt stop in front of his bedroom door, debating whether or not to enter. She could be awake already. She could be awake and thinking about how she told him she loved him. She could be awake and thinking about how she told him she loved him and how it was a lie. She could be awake and thinking that she'd just had the worst sex of her life. She could be awake and comparing him to Angel. She could be awake and comparing him to Angel and deciding his sire was better.

 

He heard Nia yell, "Just give her the flower already!!"

 

"Sod off!" Spike yelled back. He glowered at the door, clenched his jaw, then opened it and walked into the bedroom before he smartened up.

 

Buffy was still sleeping. And snoring. She had a cute snore. He wondered if he snored. Could someone who didn't breathe snore? Could he get any more pathetic?

 

Spike quickly set the flower on the night-stand and left the bedroom again, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it and thumped the back of his head on the hard wood. He had to be the biggest wanker on the face of the earth. Maybe even the galaxy. Or galaxies. Or the universe. Aliens were probably laughing their parts off at him. Antennae and tentacles were littering spaceships everywhere.

 

"You are so strange," Nia said, appearing in front of him.

 

"AH!" Spike yelped, smacking his head hard on the door. He glared at her, his head throbbing. "Don't fucking do that!"

 

"And miss out on all the fun of you screaming like a wimp? Never," she said.

 

"If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you," he growled.

 

"Hostility is a sign of sexual frustration," Nia said. "Was she not good in the sack?"

 

Spike's eyes flashed gold. "Don't."

 

"Are you telling me what to do?" Nia asked threateningly.

 

"Yes," Spike replied, his true face appearing as he lost control. Too many emotions and thoughts, combined with his current hyper-active state of mind, were rolling through him to keep a handle on it. He took a step away from the door towards the ghost.

 

Nia narrowed her eyes at him. "Watch it, Billy."

 

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME BILLY!!!" Spike roared. He drew back his left arm and threw a punch with all his might at Nia. It went through her and straight into the wall, cracking the stone and shattering the bones in his hand.

 

The bedroom door flew open and Buffy stood in a fighting stance wearing Spike's discarded black t-shirt, her hair sticking up, a wild look in her eyes from being woken suddenly. Spike spun around to face her, snarling, his broken hand pulled protectively near his waist. Buffy fell back, looking like someone punched her in the gut, her face paling.

 

Nia threw out her arm as if brushing someone away and Spike flew back and was pinned to the wall. She put herself between him and Buffy, her anger causing a ghostly wind to whip through the hallway, raising her hair and that of the Slayer's, and the door to the bedroom slammed shut with Buffy on the other side. A bolt of blue-white energy exploded from her hand and struck Spike on his bare stomach. He howled in pain, unable to move to protect himself. His skin burned from the inside, the top-most layer turning black and charring.

 

The ghost let him go and he fell forward to the ground. He put his hands out to catch himself and collapsed onto his left forearm as the broken bones connected with the stone floor. The door was wrenched open by his head and he caught a glimpse of the Slayer as she dashed past him.

 

"Slayer, wait!" he yelled out, his voice wracked with pain. "Slayer!"

 

The slam of the front door rang throughout the mansion.

 

"Damn you, Nia," Spike growled, pushing himself to his feet.

 

"Serves you right," Nia snapped.

 

"But the Slayer didn't do anything and you're bloody punishing her!"

 

"Me?!" Nia said. "You're the one who went to hit me, which wasn't one of your most shining moments. Ghost, remember?"

 

"She's going to think I've pulled an Angelus on her!" Spike yelled. "Bloody hell! You don't know what the fuck you've done to her!"

 

"Oh crap," Nia cursed. Spike knew that she was reading from his mind the images and thoughts of the past and what he pieced together from when Angelus had returned to the 'family.'

 

"Yeah, 'oh crap,'" he said sardonically. He walked painfully to the kitchen and opened the freezer, then stuck his broken hand in the ice bin. He urged the sun to set faster. He had a woman to find. 

*****

Buffy sat on her bed in her dorm room, clutching her pillow to her chest. She stared blankly across the wall at the Wiccan wall-hanging Willow had put up. She was still wearing Spike's t- shirt and nothing else, which had gotten her many catcalls as she ran onto campus and to her dorm. Luckily, her RA had been able to let her into her room with a simple lie of Willow having accidentally locked her out while she was in the bathroom.

 

Her mind had shut itself down protectively once she'd sat down on her bed. It refused to let her think the worst. She could only sit numbly and stare at the hanging.

 

"Um, Buffy?"

 

Buffy slowly turned her head and saw someone standing in her room. She blinked in surprise, pulling her away from the numbness. Her hands clenched into fists and she focused on the different ways to kill the person if she wasn't human. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in my room?"

 

"I'm Nia," Nia said, staying near the door. "And I need to talk to you about Spike."

 

Her expression grew wary and her heart started to hurt. "What about him?"

 

"What happened at the mansion wasn't his fault," Nia said. "Well, it was his fault, but it had nothing to do with you."

 

Buffy's wariness of the girl went off the charts. "I don't know what you're talking about."

 

Nia sighed. "I guess I should explain so you stop thinking of ways to off me and get back to the mansion before Billy drives himself insane waiting for the sun to set. I swear, that vampire can get so hyper, he makes coffee nervous."

 

Buffy was off the bed and in a fighting stance in an instant. "Alright, chicky, you have five seconds to explain or I'm going to use your head as my new doorstop."

 

"Now I can see why Billy lo-likes you," Nia said. "Both of you have the 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality."

 

"Who the hell is this 'Billy' you keep referring to?" Buffy scowled. "Your five seconds is almost up. Two...one..."

 

"Spike and Billy are one in the same. I just call him that to annoy him," Nia replied. "And before you open your can of whup-ass, I have to tell you, you can't hurt me."

 

"And why is that?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

 

"Because I'm a ghost." 

 

*****

Part Eight

 

"So, Spike couldn't tell me about you," Buffy said a little while later. "And here I thought he was just strange." 

"Oh, he is," Nia said. "There's no doubt about that." 

Buffy was pretty smart, to Nia's relief. By choice, she hadn't told the Slayer about the entire curse, just that Spike had killed her and now she haunted him. Buffy had figured out that was the reason he was helping her with slaying, why he got blood from the butcher's shop and why he seemed to be not all together upstairs. Nia didn't have the heart to tell her his elevator didn't go all the way to the top. 

"Sometimes I wonder who has it worse -- him or me," Nia said with a grin. 

"And you're with him all the time?" Buffy asked. 

"No, I didn't spy on you two," she reassured her. Even if she couldn't read minds, what Buffy was asking was obvious. "I saw you come in and then I blocked everything out." 

Buffy nodded, then twisted her hands nervously. "Um, you said you can read his thoughts..." 

"Buffy, he was so flustered when he came out of the bedroom earlier, his mind flitted from one thing to another faster than a hummingbird," Nia said. "I know there's a word for something like that..." 

"ADHD," Buffy supplied. "Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, according to my psych book." She blushed. "I kinda suspected he had it, especially after spending every night with him for a month." 

"Well, I'd better get back before he notices he's not being watched," Nia said. "Now that I know how to do it, you'll be able to see me when you get there." 

"Um, Nia..." 

"Yes, Buffy. He really wants you to come back," Nia told her, then she disappeared. 

*****

 

Spike really wanted Buffy to come back. He paced relentlessly in front of the empty fireplace, his left hand splinted and bandaged so it would heal correctly. The bottom three buttons on the black shirt he'd retrieved from the bedroom were buttoned lopsided and his hair was sticking up from him continuously trying to run a frustrated hand through it, only to forget that his left hand was bandaged. Nia was gone, he hoped for good, but he doubted it considering he wasn't a pacing dust pile. 

He glared at the sun coming from behind the dark curtains for the umpteenth time. It was almost as if the sun were taunting him, stretching out the day so he couldn't go after Buffy and tell her...what? That he had lost control because he told her he loved her and he didn't know if her response was true or not? Or that he was being punished by a ghost and then be punished by that ghost for telling Buffy about the ghost? Or, to top it all off, he was out of fags? 

"Are you still wound up?" Nia asked. 

Spike started, his step faltering at the ghost's sudden appearance, but he picked it right back up. "Great, you're back," he growled unhappily. "Just what I bloody wanted." 

Actually, he wanted a smoke and Buffy, not necessarily in that order. Although, he knew what to do with the smokes and not with Buffy, so maybe the original order was the better order. And he really wanted the sun to go down already before he went out of his ever-lovin' mind. 

"You're already out of your mind," Nia commented. 

"Bugger off." 

"You do know that you're wearing a hole in the stone floor." 

"I repeat, bugger off," he said. He needed Nia to shut up before he did something idiotic again, like break his other hand. If that happened, he wouldn't be able to touch Buffy's lush, soft skin or make her moan in delight as he ran his fingers along her inner thighs, unless he used his mouth. On second thought, maybe having both hands incapacitated wouldn't be such a bad thing. He could almost taste her hot, salty skin... 

"Billy, if you're going to think X-rated thoughts, go lock yourself in your bedroom," Nia said. "You're broadcasting Skinamax wide-band." 

Spike stopped pacing and glared at Nia. He tried to run a frustrated hand through his hair, but his peroxide locks got caught on the bandage. Dropping his hand, he stalked out of the room towards his bedroom. 

He came to a halt outside of his closed door, hand on the knob, but he couldn't seem to turn it. He'd told Buffy he loved her in that room, which was even dumber than trying to punch a ghost. He shouldn't have said it, even though he knew it was true. It was too soon. It was too new. It was too cliche to say it at such a highly sexual moment. Was it too late to take it back? Was it too late to hope he had a cigarette hidden somewhere? 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Spike swore. He forcefully opened the door, took one step in the room, smelled the heady scent of sex and candles, saw Buffy writhing under him on the bed, turned right back around and left. 

The kitchen was always a good place to go. It had shiny surfaces. It had pots and pans and utensils. It had a refrigerator. It had a refrigerator that held containers of blood. It had a microwave. It had a microwave that was used to heat up the containers of blood. It didn't have Buffy laying on the counter with her legs spread, waiting for him to dip his tongue into her core and taste her juices. Although, her petite form would easily fit up there... 

The kitchen wasn't a good place to go. Spike quickly went back into the main room and glared at the ghost still sitting on the couch. "This is all your bloody fault." 

"Oh really?" Nia said. 

Spike resumed pacing in front of the fireplace. "Yes. I don't want to love her." 

"Why not?" Nia asked. "She's cute. She's pretty smart. She knows how to put you in your place. She has some great insults." 

"Vampire's don't love humans," he stated firmly. Nia snorted and he glared at her. "They don't." 

"You said 'they' instead of 'we,'" Nia pointed out. "Does that mean you're not a vampire anymore?" 

"I am too a bleedin' vampire," he growled. His pacing became more rapid. "I am one of the most feared master vampires in the world. My death toll is staggering. My strength and skill is renown. Mortals quake in their puny shoes when they see me coming. Vampires, too. I've loved two Slayers, for bloody's sake!" 

"Um, don't you mean you killed two Slayers?" Nia asked, trying to suppress her giggles. 

"That's it, I don't care about the friggin' sun, I'm going to find the Slayer and tell her under no uncertain terms will I ever not love her." Spike punctuated his declaration with a firm nod of his head. 

He took a few steps towards the curtain, then paused. He was going to tell her that he would ever not love her? Why didn't that make sense to him? Why was Nia almost falling off the couch in laughter? Why did he have to tell Buffy he loved her? Why was there someone knocking on the door? 

"Are you going to answer the door, Billy, or are you going to continue ranting about how you're not a vampire who is not in love with the Slayer?" Nia asked. 

Spike frowned and headed for the door to open it. His mouth dropped open when he saw who was on the other side. Or rather, when he saw who was on the other side looking so beautiful, his eyes hurt. 

Buffy's head was ducked in shyness and she was looking up at him from under her long lashes. Her hair was loose, fanning around her face and glowing gold in the fading sunlight beyond the door. Her face was lightly flushed from memories and awkwardness. Her light yellow slip dress clung to her every curve and emphasized her sexy legs. Sexy, strong, wickedly wonderful legs that went all the way up to... 

"Oh, you're hurt," Buffy said, taking his bandaged hand as he continued to stand there like a wanker with his mouth hanging open. 

Spike closed it with a clack, but continued to stare at her like she was Venus herself. Her touch was gentle on his fingertips, which poked out of the top of the bandage, and he felt a sharp longing pierce through him to have that touch on places besides his broken hand. 

"Is it painful?" she asked softly. 

"You came back," Spike blurted in response. Now that wasn't too pathetic. "Er, I mean, I can explain. About earlier." 

"Aren't you going to let me in first?" Buffy asked, an amused smile tilting up the corners of her mouth. 

Spike wanted to kiss that smile. He wanted to run his tongue along her lips, the push his way inside to taste her and con her tongue into twining with his. He wanted to hold her up against him while he kissed her until she went weak in his arms from the pleasure. He wanted to... 

"Are you going to let the poor girl in or not?" Nia called over to him. Buffy giggled. 

"Right, er, come in," Spike said, stepping back from the door. Doing so caused her to let go of his injured hand and he immediately felt bereft. He was such a nancyboy. He was turning into Angel. The irony of that thought hit him. He was turning into his 'father.' 

With a mental groan, he shut the door behind Buffy. He so did not want to turn into his sire. Angel was a pathetic excuse for a vampire, all mopey and broody. He didn't have a single, good witticism and had left the Slayer. What kind of moron does that? Spike would have stuck around, just so as no one else could touch the sweet piece of femininity and power that was his woman. No sir, he wouldn't take a single step out of Sunnydale unless Buffy was by his side. No curse was going to prevent him from loving the Slayer. 

"It's not," Nia informed him. "You'll have to excuse the blank look in his eyes, Buffy." She tapped the side of her head. "The house is lit, but no one is home." 

"Oh, I knew that long ago," Buffy replied. 

Spike's mouth dropped open again. "You...her...she...I..." 

"I am so proud of Billy. Today he learned what a pronoun was," Nia said in a motherly voice. 

"He's kinda cute all fershimmeled," Buffy said, giving Spike an impish grin. She reached forward and tugged at his lopsided shirt. 

Spike was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Buffy not only knew about Nia, she could see and hear the ghost, as well. He felt as though he took a pisser during a picture and missed the pivotal scene. It didn't help that Buffy was so damn gorgeous that his other head was rapidly taking over his thinking. 

*****

 

He really was adorable, with his shirt buttoned wrong, his hair sticking up and a confused expression on his face. He was always so perfect in his cocky and arrogant way, which made how he was now all the more endearing. Buffy had thought she had fallen for him before, but now she was certain. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from the wonder and joy caused by being in love again. A thought entered her mind. She felt the same as those few precious weeks she'd had with Angel, between the time the blond in front of her had kidnaped him and her seventeenth birthday. 

She couldn't help the silly smile that crossed her face and she dropped her head. Here she was, going on nineteen, in love with the vampire who tried to kill the vampire she used to love. "Love makes you do the wacky," she said quietly. 

Raising her head, Buffy met Spike's blue eyes and saw that confusion had given way to a softness that made her stomach flip-flop. His non-bandaged hand came up and brushed the side of her cheek before pushing back into her hair. 

"Then I must be certifiable," Spike murmured. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. 

Buffy sighed and slid her arms around his lean waist. She felt his other arm move around behind her and she was pulled closer to him. The evidence of his desire was pressed against her abdomen and she could feel a small vibration against her breasts as he made soft purring noises. She knew from experience that the sound was associated with a vampire's happiness when emitted unconsciously. Angel had purred on occasion and she'd wager that Drusilla had, as well. 

It didn't bother her that Spike had loved Drusilla intensely, just as she hoped it didn't bother Spike that she had loved Angel with equal passion. The experience had helped her to learn about life and love and desire, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. Certainly, she would have spent her life with Angel if it were possible, but it wasn't meant to be. 

Now she was being given the opportunity to love someone else and she was going to grab the reigns with both hands and hang on tight. She was sure loving Spike would be quite a thrill ride. 

Spike broke away from her mouth to kiss down her throat as she lifted her chin for him. When he moved towards the side of her neck, she dropped her head to the side, baring herself in a way that showed her trust in him. Like it did in the music store, his purr got louder for a moment, then settled back into its pleasing softness as he ran his tongue over her pulse-point. 

She felt herself being lowered to the hard floor, and anticipation and arousal shot through her. Soon she would be touching his firm body, tasting his salty skin, feeling him fill her... 

"Ahem." 

Buffy's eyes shot open and she saw Nia standing beside them. The ghost waggled her fingers. "Hi, remember me?" 

"Bloody hell," Spike growled in Buffy's ear. "I hate that ghost." 

"And I love you, too, Billy-goat," Nia said. "However, I figured neither of you wished to greet our guests in such a...revealing manner." 

"Guests?" Spike asked, standing up and pulling Buffy back to her feet. 

"A great car is pulling up the drive," Nia said. "Complete with blacked-out windows." 

"You don't think..." Buffy exchanged a look with Spike. "Angel?" 

"Let's see, I was having a perfect moment and it was interrupted," Spike said, striking a thoughtful pose. "Since it wasn't Nia the Peeping Thomasina..." 

"Hey," Nia scowled. 

"...It could only be my trotting sire," Spike finished. He looked at the candle and flower petal path and sighed. "Nia, be a luv and make all this poof, will you?" 

"And here I thought you'd want to rub it in," Nia commented, waving her hand. A bowl filled with the flower petals appeared on the coffee table and the candles disappeared, leaving no trace of the path that had been on the floor. 

He shook his head. "Some moments are much too personal to share." 

Buffy could have been knocked over with a feather at his reply. Her mouth dropped open slightly and she stared at him with disbelief. 

Spike caught her look and chuckled. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Do you want to stick around, pet, and tell the sod about us, or would you rather wait?" 

"Ok, he looks like Spike," Buffy said to Nia. She reached out and ran her fingers over his chest. "And he feels like Spike..." 

"Ha, ha, Slayer," Spike said, capturing her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "It's up to you, luv." 

Buffy didn't know how to answer. On one hand, she wanted to shout her new-found love from the rooftops. On the other, she didn't want to hurt Angel. She also didn't want things to be uncomfortable between them. If Angel was in Sunnydale, there had to be an important reason, and she would need to work with him without problems. 

"Let's wait, ok?" Buffy said. "If it is Angel, he has to be here because something big is going down, and I'd rather not have-" 

"Say no more, ducks," Spike interrupted. "I understand." 

"That's a first," Nia said. 

"Sod off," he told the ghost. 

"Nia, will you check and see if it is Angel?" Buffy asked. Nia nodded and vanished as she turned to Spike. Lifting her hands, she ran her fingers through his hair, straightening it, then went to work on his shirt. 

"There," she said, patting the last button. "All fixed." 

She raised her gaze and saw that he was looking at her strangely. "What? Do I have something on my face?" 

"Fuck," Spike swore softly. 

"O-k," Buffy said, touching her face with her hands. "Something tells me that's not a good thing." 

"Bloody fucking hell," Spike cursed again quietly, pressing his non-bandaged hand over hers on her cheek. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her mouth, then whispered against her lips, "I love you." 

"It's Angel and some leggy brunette," Nia reported, appearing beside them. They jumped apart in surprise, then glared at her. "Um, oops. Sorry." 

"Yeah, right," Spike growled at her. He sighed and brushed a kiss across Buffy's forehead. "I'll see you later, luv." 

Buffy frowned at him. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to find out why Angel's here." 

"But I thought you wanted to wait?" Spike said. 

"I do," Buffy replied. "But that doesn't mean that I can't be here. You are my friend, too, you know." 

"Oh," he said. 

"As you can see, Billy has perfected the art of public speaking," Nia commented. 

"Stop calling me Billy," Spike growled. 

Buffy giggled and moved to sit on the couch. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Spike muttered something about the kitchen and headed in that direction at a quick clip. 

"Remember, Buffy," Nia said, sitting down beside her. "Only you and Spike can see and hear me." 

"Right," Buffy said. "Wouldn't want Angel to think I'm as strange as Spike." 

"No one is as strange as Billy," Nia said. 

"True," Buffy agreed. 

Nia grinned, then glanced over her shoulder at the doors. "Here they come." 

 

 

Part Nine

 

 

 

Buffy expected to feel awkward or heartbreak or sadness when Angel entered the mansion. Instead, she was having a very hard time not laughing. It didn't help that Nia was giggling like a maniac on the couch beside her, tempting her to join in. 

The expression on Angel's face was what had done her in. She had never seen him so surprised before. One time she'd startled him pretty decently, but the look on his face then was nothing like the look on his face when he came through the door, followed by Cordelia. If she had a camera, she would have taken his picture to commemorate the moment. 

"Buffy?" Angel said, dropping his bag inside the door. 

"Hi, Angel," Buffy greeted, her voice full of mirth. 

"I can't believe you're hanging around the mansion, Buffy," Cordelia said, brushing past the still stunned Angel to enter the main portion of the large home. "Pathetic much?" 

"It's so nice to see you, too, Cordelia," Buffy said sarcastically. 

"Whatever," Cordelia said. "Angel, what room is mine? I so need to get out of these clothes." 

"Any of them," Angel said absently. He continued to stare at Buffy as Cordelia headed for the hallway that led to the many bedrooms. "What are you doing here?" 

"It's nice to see you again, too, Angel," Buffy said. 

"It's always nice to see you, Buffy," Angel said, giving her a slightly sheepish look. He picked up his bag and headed over towards her. 

"Damn, what is it with vampires looking so sexy?" Nia commented. "I'm surprised there are any females left alive on earth." 

Buffy tittered quietly. Angel set his bag by the master bedroom doorway and turned to her with a confused look. She smiled at him and patted the couch. "Come talk to me. What dragged you all the way from LA back to this black hole?" 

As Angel moved to take a seat on the other couch, which was perpendicular to the one where she was sitting, she felt the pang she expected when he'd first walked in. But it wasn't a harsh hurt, like in the early weeks, when she felt as though her heart was bleeding. Instead, it was a sweet pang of memories and of first love, of things that had been and of a future that was never meant to be. It probably would have been worse if a certain peroxide-blond vampire hadn't come into her life. 

"Oh no," Nia suddenly said. Buffy glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and saw her disappear. 

"We're following a sorcerer," Angel said, unaware of the ghost or her sudden departure. He leaned forward on the couch and rested his forearms on his knees. "Now, what about you? Why are you here?" 

"I came to visit the current resident," Buffy replied, truthfully. She had also returned to feel Spike's hard body pressed against hers, but Angel didn't need to know that. 

"Current resident?" 

"'Allo, Angel," Spike greeted, sauntering into the room. Gone was the flustered, mussed-up, tender man she loved from a few minutes ago. In his place was the cocky, arrogant vampire she knew and loved just as much. She noted that his left hand was no longer bandaged and wondered why. 

"Spike," Angel practically growled. 

"Angel, I think someone is using the mansion for sex." Cordelia's voice reached them before the brunette entered the room. "Recent sex, too, unless there's a new air freshener I don't want to know about." 

Nia trailed in behind Cordelia. "I tried to get there first, but I was too late. Sorry," 

Buffy's eyes widened, and her gaze went from Cordelia to Spike. She refused to look at Angel, to see the questions, recriminations and hurt in his brown eyes. She didn't want him finding out about her and Spike like this. 

Spike met her gaze with no reaction to Cordelia's announcement and smirked. "A man's got needs you know, Slayer. You didn't expect me to be a monk as well as a saint." 

*****

 

Spike was proud of his quick thinking. He was also proud of his control, even though he was itching to brag to Angel that he was pretty sure he was the love in Buffy's life and he was definitely the one to make her writhe and gasp in pleasure as he loved her body. He was looking forward to when they did tell his sire, just to see the look on Angel's face. He had a feeling it was going to be priceless. 

He tapped his fingers of his right hand absently against his leg. His thoughts weren't as skittish as they were earlier. Buffy's return and Angel's arrival helped to bring him back down to normal. Well, as normal as he'd ever be. He had a brief thought. What if he was the normal one and everyone else was off? 

"Trust me, Billy, it's just you," Nia commented. 

Spike rolled his eyes and looked over at the brunette. "Did you enjoy snooping through my things, ducks?" 

"Please," Cordelia said disdainfully. "Do not even attempt to go there." 

Spike noticed that she wasn't even wary of him as she walked over and sat on the couch next to Angel. That gave him a pause. She should have at least looked a little fearful. 

"I hate to tell you this, Billy," Nia said. "You're about as scary as a shorn sheep." 

Buffy dropped her head and covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle. Spike ignored both females in his life and turned his attention back to his sire. "I take it I'm going to have house guests?" 

Angel frowned, looking back and forth between Spike and Buffy. "It's my house, not yours, and is there something I should know?" 

"Spike's good now," Buffy informed Angel. 

"Buffy says to tell you 'in more ways than one,'" Nia said to Spike. 

A cocky grin spread over his face and he glanced down at the Slayer. He couldn't believe she was teasing him with Angel right there. He couldn't believe how ridiculously happy that made him feel. He couldn't believe how well he could see down her top. 

"Since when?" Angel asked skeptically. 

"Since he has been," Buffy replied. "Now, tell us more about this sorcerer. Should we worry?" 

She leaned forward slightly, preparing to listen, and her yellow slip dress gaped further out, giving Spike quite a perfect view of the top swells of her breasts. They rose and fell with each breath she took and he found himself purposely inhaling and exhaling with her. His trousers became uncomfortably tight in the front and he was glad he was wearing a longer dress shirt. 

He ripped his gaze away from her cleavage and found himself looking up into a pair of amused brown eyes, a sculpted brow arched mockingly. He played it up and shrugged at Cordelia. He was male, therefore, he could look when opportunity presented itself. Not that he had any desire to look at anyone else's breasts but Buffy's, and he'd much prefer Buffy's to be uncovered. 

"Billy, you'd better get your other head in gear," Nia said. "They're talking about saving lives now. You remember, that thing you're suppose to do?" 

Spike pulled himself back into the conversation, glad for once of the ghosts presence. He had no desire to see those perfect breasts get marred in any way and to prevent that, he'd better pay attention. Then later, when they were alone, he'd give them the attention they deserved. 

"You are a sick, sick vampire," Nia commented. "Just how are you planning on getting Buffy's boobs off of her? Don't you think she'd protest?" 

Buffy slowly turned her head and looked up at Spike. He gave her a sheepish grin, lifted his right hand slightly and flicked Nia off. He took back his gratitude for the ghosts presence. 

"At least you know what this guy looks like," Buffy said, shaking her head slightly and returning her gaze to Angel. 

"You don't know the things I had to do to get a look at him," Cordelia complained. "I had to wear ruffles! In public!" 

"But we don't know the extent of his magickal abilities," Angel said, ignoring Cordelia. "Or if he's really that dangerous or not." 

"Well, we can assume since he came to the good ol' Hellmouth, he's got something up his sleeve," Buffy said. "No one just comes here for a visit." 

"What about Spike?" Cordelia asked. "Why did he come back?" 

"I'd like to know that myself," Angel said, leaning back on the couch in a deceptively casual pose.

Spike resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at his sire. Barely. "I came back because I got roped into helping the Slayer." 

"And to look down her top," Nia added. Buffy shot Spike an evil glare and leaned back on the couch, pulling her dress against her. Nia laughed. 

"Oh really?" Angel said, dark brow raised. 

"Yes, really," Spike said in an exaggerated, mocking manner. 

"Now, why don't I believe you?" Angel asked. 

"Because you're about as smart as belly-button lint," Spike replied. 

Buffy went to smack his leg with the back of her hand, but instead hit his broken hand, which was resting lightly on his left leg. He hissed in pain, his teeth clenching together as he willed himself not to move and show any weakness in front of Angel. He was through with being mocked as the lesser vampire in his sire's eyes. Buffy, however, didn't know a thing about being a male. 

"Oh god, I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch his hand gently. Her hit, although light, had been strong enough to knock the bones of his pinkie out of line. She stood and took his arm. "Come on. We need to splinter that back up." 

"Slayer, it's fine," Spike said between his clenched teeth. 

"I don't see why you took it off to begin with," Buffy continued, tugging on his arm. "I can't have my slaying partner disabled..." 

It was the wrong thing to say. With a growl, Spike stood and pushed her away. "I said it was fine, Slayer. I don't need your bloody help or your sympathy, so shove off." 

Buffy stared at him, her beautiful eyes filled with hurt and the beginnings of tears. "Fine. Sorry for giving a damn." She lifted her head proudly and headed for the front door. "I'm going on patrol. Angel, meet me at Giles' in a little while so we can discuss this sorcerer." 

Spike watched her leave, a feeling of helplessness engulfing him. The door closed with a silent click, but it might as well have been slammed. He stared at the door for a moment, then turned on his heel and stormed back to his room. 

Nia was standing in front of his door. "I don't have the patience for this, woman," he growled at the ghost. 

"You have got to be the biggest jerk I have ever known," Nia told him. 

"She treated me like a bloody invalid in front of-" Spike clamped his mouth shut and reached through the ghost to grab the doorknob. 

"So this is a penis thing," Nia said. 

"Sod off," he growled. He opened his door and walked through her, then stopped when the smell of the room hit him. Despite what had just happened, he became immediately aroused. He ground his teeth together and stalked purposely to his dresser. He struggled to open the drawer one handed. "Bloody fucking hell." 

"If you weren't such a typical male, Buffy could have helped you," Nia commented, hovering outside of the open door. 

"Would a bloody typical male be trying..." He trailed off and slammed his good hand on top of the dresser. "Damn it, Nia, can you fucking help me?" 

"Not on your unlife," Nia said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. 

"I'm going to go after her, you dumb chit, and explain," he snapped. 

"Yell at yourself often, Spike?" 

Spike looked over at the doorway and saw Angel standing where Nia had been. "Go to hell, Angel. Again." He turned back to the dresser and began to struggle with it again. 

Angel walked into the room. "Cordelia was right. It smells like a brothel in here." 

"Then get the fuck out," Spike growled. He got one side of the drawer open, but the angle prevented the other side from sliding out. Angel sighed and pushed him none-too-lightly out of the way, then opened the drawer for him. He glared at his sire, then grabbed a pair of jeans and tossed them on the unmade bed. He shoved the drawer closed with his hip, walked over to the side of the bed and knelt awkwardly on the floor to get a small gym bag out from under it. 

When he stood back up and saw Angel still standing there, he snarled, "What the bloody hell do you want already?!" 

"I didn't believe a single word about you helping Buffy," Angel stated. "I'll be watching you." 

Spike shoved his jeans, as well as the t-shirt he'd grabbed off of the chair in the corner of the room, into the bag one-handed, then picked it up. Without a word, he stalked past Angel, down the hall and to the kitchen. There, he shoved the splints and bandages into the bag, grabbed his car keys off the counter and left the mansion. 

 

*****

 

Buffy had just tied her second shoelace when there was a knock on her door. Although she had no desire to see anyone, she got up to answer it anyway. Big mistake. 

"What do you want?" she asked, scowling at the blond vampire at her door. 

"To apologize for snapping at you," Spike replied unhappily. 

"You don't sound too sorry," Buffy said, stepping back. Spike entered her room and she closed the door behind him. 

"That's because I'm not," he grumbled, dropping his bag on the floor. He glared at her. "You made a bloody fool out of me in front of Angel." 

"I did what?" Buffy asked, staring at him with confusion. 

"Weakness, Slayer. Angelus thrives on the weakness of others," Spike said. "And you made me look weak." 

Buffy looked at his rigid posture, the stubborn set to his jaw and sighed. "I pulled a Larry." 

"Come again?" Spike said, frowning at her. 

"I stopped Larry from beating up Xander and...never mind," she said, moving to her bed. She sank down onto it. "I'm sorry I invaded your male space or whatever it is. If it'll make you happy, I'll let you stake more vamps tonight." 

Spike studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "It might." He sat down next to her on the bed and looked at his shoes. "So, am I forgiven?" 

"I don't know," Buffy said mischievously. She stood and straddled his lap, being careful of his hand. "I think you may have to persuade me to forgive you." 

"You think so, huh?" Spike said, a smile crossing his own face. "Any particular way you have in mind?" 

Buffy leaned back slightly and pulled her shirt off, tossing it onto the floor behind her. Her bra followed. "Why don't you just use your imagination?" 

She quickly learned just how imaginative a vampire with a broken hand really was. 

 

Part Ten

 

 

 

"Where's Nia?" Buffy asked, pulling her wet hair up from the quick shower she took. 

"In the car, sulking," Spike answered, laying casually on the bed. He was dressed in the jeans and t-shirt he'd brought, and his hand was re-bandaged, all courtesy of Buffy's assistance. Of course, it had taken awhile to get him dressed, considering the Slayer insisted on kissing every inch of skin before it became covered. "She's probably happy now that I apologized to you." 

"Well, it was nice of her not to join us," Buffy said. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror. "I'm so not into menage a trois. Especially not with dead people." 

"I'm dead people." 

Buffy rolled her eyes and swatted his booted foot. "Come on. Everyone's probably wondering where the heck we are. Willow headed over to Giles' a few minutes after I got here." 

Spike stood and looked down at his bandaged hand. "Er, Slayer?" 

"Yeah?" Buffy said, sliding the bag of slaying equipment on her shoulder. She looked back at him. 

He held up his left hand. "Thanks." 

The smile that lit up Buffy's face made his heart melt. He was completely sunk. How he was not going to tell or show anyone how head over heels he was, he didn't know. 

*****

 

Spike was as far away from Buffy as he could get in Giles' small living room. Buffy had to force herself not to look at him in order to keep the huge grin off of her face. She was also having trouble concentrating on the discussion revolving around the sorcerer. All she wanted to do was grab the blond vampire and kiss him until he was breathless. 

"What do you think, Buffy?" Willow asked. 

"Um...," Buffy trailed off. 

"They want to know if you're ready to go look for the sorcerer," Nia supplied helpfully from her seat next to Spike. 

"I think I'm ready to kick sorcerer butt," Buffy said, flashing a thankful grin to the ghost. When she did that, her eyes locked with Spike's and she was surprised everyone couldn't hear her heart start to pound in her chest. She pulled her gaze away and stared down at the coffee table in front of her. How in the world was she going to get through the night? 

She glanced over at Angel, who stood near the door, and saw that he was watching Spike with an undisguised look of distrust on his face. Thankfully, Xander was working, so she didn't have two males bristling at the blond vampire. In the month that Spike had been helping her, he'd had to also work with the small group of friends in researching and planning. Xander had been the biggest protestor of the addition of Spike, but Giles, although wary, had supported the vampire's involvement. Willow was glad that Buffy had help, but was also wary of Spike's sudden goodness, and Oz normally went with whatever Willow's opinion was. 

She wanted to tell all of them that Spike was trustworthy because of Nia, but she realized that she felt that he was trustworthy before she even knew the ghost existed. Either that made her a good judge of character or a really, really bad one. 

Buffy shook her head slightly and pulled herself back into the conversation. She had possible disaster to prevent. There would be time later to strip Spike naked and have her wicked way with him. 

*****

 

"Ok, everyone know the plan?" Buffy whispered. She peered through the bushes into the clearing where the sorcerer was chanting. 

"We distract him, the hocus pocus group does their thing, we go home," Cordelia replied. 

"That about sums it up," Oz said. 

It had only taken the group an hour to find the man. While Willow, Giles and Angel had stayed at the former Watcher's gathering spellbooks and supplies to stop whatever the sorcerer was planning, Buffy, Spike, Oz and Cordelia went hunting for him. Oz had led the small team to the different clearings he knew of from Willow's Wiccan rituals, and they found him at the sixth location. The werewolf and Spike then returned to Giles' to get the others while Buffy and Cordelia kept an eye on him. 

Buffy looked back at Angel, Willow and Giles. Angel nodded at her, indicating they were ready. She took a short breath and blew it out. Something wasn't sitting right with her. She glanced at Spike and saw him shifting his weight from foot to foot, scanning the area behind them, indicating he felt the same. Nia was standing beside him, as usual, observing silently. 

She gripped the magickal knife in her hand tighter. "Let's do it." 

Quietly, she went around the bushes and positioned herself at the edge of the circle markers behind the sorcerer. He was an extremely tall and slender man, bordering on waifish, with shoulder-length ebony hair and a long, black goatee with a slash of silver-grey straight down the center. He was dressed in navy blue robes and his deep voice rolled to her from his position in the circle. 

Oz was slightly behind her, holding a two-way radio steady, the side button depressed in order for the magick users of the Slayer's team to hear the sorcerer. Cordelia was beside him, acting as his guard and Spike was on the other side of her, ready to assist her in distracting the sorcerer. Just as she was about to insert the knife in the bottom of the protection circle to cut an entry, the blond vampire put his hand on her shoulder. 

Buffy turned her head and met his steady blue gaze. His eyes were filled with worry. He lifted his non-bandaged hand and brushed it against the side of her cheek. 

"Be careful," he mouthed. 

She nodded and took another short breath, then slid the knife flat against the ground at the bottom of the circle. She turned the magickal blade ninety degrees and slowly brought her hand straight up. She could see a faint outline of blue where the knife cut into the protective magick, fading away in a few seconds. She cut the doorway as high as she could reach and two feet wide, watching the sorcerer warily. He did not turn or give any indication he knew they were there. 

Once the door was cut, she passed the knife to Cordelia. She raised herself up to her full height and sauntered into the circle. "Nothing like a clear night to do a little black magick," she said loudly. 

The sorcerer turned and Buffy had to steel herself against showing the instant fear she felt. His eyes were completely white, sunken into his long, narrow face. His teeth were yellow and rotting as he hissed at her. On the ground in front of him was a pattern of bones, both animal and human, and was glowing a faint reddish color. 

"Who dares interrupt me?" he growled. 

"Well, me, for one," Buffy answered conversationally. She pointed behind the sorcerer. "And him." 

The sorcerer turned and was met with a right cross to his face. Spike then back-fisted him with the same hand, knocking his head the other direction. The sorcerer's gaze snapped back to Spike and Buffy cried out when the blond vampire flew backwards. He hit the invisible wall of the protection circle and fell to the ground with a hard thud. 

Anger infused the Slayer, and she attacked the sorcerer. She lashed her foot out, kicking the man in the back of the knee, and he jerked forward slightly, off balance. She drove her fist into his back, then found herself falling to the ground as the sorcerer spun around, back-fisting her with his right hand. She rolled out of the way as he attempted to stomp on her back and she jumped to her feet. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Willow and Angel duck into the doorway cut in the protective circle, magickal implements in their hands. She spun and kicked at the sorcerer, but he ducked under her leg. He brought his hand up and she suddenly felt as though she was slammed in the chest by a two-by-four. She staggered backwards with a grunt. 

Spike jumped on the sorcerer from behind, wrapping his forearm around the taller man's neck. The man arched backwards as Spike's weight pulled on him. Buffy watched in amazed horror as the sorcerer grabbed Spike's arm and threw the vampire over his shoulder. Spike let go and went with the throw, rolling with the impact of his body on the ground right to his feet beside Buffy. 

"Bloody hell, this human's tough," Spike growled. 

"Just keep him away from Angel and Willow," Buffy said before attacking again. 

The Slayer hit the sorcerer with a powerful side kick, causing him to fall back. She followed up with a snap kick, but it was blocked. She dropped her foot and punched him in the stomach. He grabbed her wrist on her next hit and she cried out as her skin started to burn. 

Spike grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away from the sorcerer with a loud snarl. She stumbled back and found herself right next to the pattern of bones. Spike's right palm shot up, clipping the man in the chin and snapping his head back. He grabbed the material of the robe with the same, uninjured hand and spun, causing the sorcerer to swing around and fall to the ground when Spike let go. 

The faint reddish glow coming from the pile of bones suddenly erupted into a bright, red column of light shooting straight up into the air. The sorcerer cackled as he rose to his feet near the doorway that had been cut into the circle. Willow made a noise of great distress on the far side of the circle and Buffy turned to see her and Angel run forward towards the light and kneel beside it. 

Buffy's eyes widened when she saw a claw emerging from the ground in the center of the bone pattern. She could hear Willow and Angel chanting something as they threw things into a small bowl between them on the ground. Then she was suddenly jolted forward towards the light. Her arms flailed out to the sides as she tried to keep her balance. 

A loud roar ripped through the night and Buffy found herself being thrown away from the light, as the vampire who had her shirt pivoted on his heel in the same manner he had thrown the sorcerer. The momentum of the movement sent her falling to the ground on her left shoulder several feet away, giving her a clear, terrifying view of Spike as he lost his counter-balance. 

His golden eyes met hers for one brief second, then the circle flashed brilliant red as he fell into the light. 

Buffy stared in horror at the spot where Spike had been, the sorcerer's loud cackles echoing around her. The magick in the air was suffocating her, pressing her down into the earth. Her heart stopped beating in her chest. 

Then she was on her feet, her scream of fury and anguish shattering all other sounds. She launched herself at the sorcerer, kicking and punching with the strength and power borne from pure rage. The man's body jerked with each of her blows, creating a macabre dance of pain as he struggled to stay on his feet. 

She was unexpectedly tackled to the ground by Oz and watched as Giles bashed the sorcerer on the back of the head. The man crumpled to the earth, his head landing near her feet and she began to kick him in the face. Her legs were abruptly pinned by Cordelia and she let out another raw cry as she tried to get away. 

Suddenly, the area exploded into blinding green light and a magickal wind whipped through the protection circle. Over the wind, the loud voices of Willow and Angel could be heard as their counter-spell reached its crux. The crackle of magickal energy ran along the protective barrier, illuminating it with blue-white bolts of lightning. A resounding boom of thunder rang throughout the area, drowning out everything else. 

Then silence. 

 

Part Eleven

 

 

Buffy shoved Oz off of her and knocked Cordelia to the side, then scrambled forward to the body in the center of the clearing. She began shaking the body, yelling at it, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at Angel and questioned him, cried for him to do something. 

Nia looked at the ghost standing beside her and saw him studying the scene with a frown on his face. He tapped the fingers of his right hand on the side of his leg, then gestured with it and asked, "What's all this?" 

"It's time, Billy," Nia told Spike. 

Spike turned his frown on her. "For what?" 

"Justice has been served," Nia said. "Of your own free will, you saved a human's life at the expense of yours." 

"I'm dead...er, more dead?" Spike asked, confused. He looked at the group surrounding his body. "But I'm not dust." 

"Not yet," Nia replied. 

Spike felt his heart breaking as he watched Buffy and a tear slid down his face. "Cor, this is going to devastate her." 

"Have you decided if you love her or not?" Nia asked. 

"More than my unlife," Spike answered. His lips curled up in a wry smile. "Guess I proved that true." 

"Then it is decided," Nia said. "I choose your death to be from physical old age." 

Spike gave Nia a puzzled frown. "But vampires don't grow older, we stay the same physical age we were turned." 

"I guess you'll be around for a very long time then." Nia grinned at him. 

"Wha-" Spike's question cut off when he suddenly found himself in extreme pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, unable to stop himself from whimpering, "Nia, stop." 

"Billy, open your eyes." 

Spike forced his eyes open and found himself staring into the hazel ones of Buffy. The pain faded away, as did the voices of everyone else surrounding him, and he smiled and sang quietly, "'Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry. Devil on your back, I can never die.'" 

Buffy let out a small cry and crushed her lips to his, kissing him fervently. He kissed her back with equal passion, uncaring of who saw them. 

She slowly broke away and stared down into his eyes. "I love you," she said, tears running down her cheeks. 

Happiness filled him at her words, threatening to make his heart burst from joy. "I love you," he repeated back. 

"That's great that you love each other and all, but can we get out of here?" Cordelia said. 

Buffy blushed and Spike chuckled. He met Angel's gaze as he sat up and barely stopped himself from going "nyah, nyah" at him. There would be time for that later. At that moment, he had an intense desire to do as Cordelia suggested and get out of there so he could show Buffy how much he loved her. 

He groaned as pain wracked his body when he stood up. Perhaps Buffy would have to show him how much she loved him instead. 

*****

 

Buffy smiled tenderly at the sleeping vampire beside her, reaching over to run her fingers through his soft hair. She heard a knock at the bedroom door and looked up to see Nia standing in front of it, inside the bedroom. "Hi," she greeted softly. 

"Hi," Nia said. "I just wanted to check on Billy one more time before I left." 

"You're leaving?" Buffy said. 

Nia nodded. "He has you to keep him in line now." 

"True," she said, smiling again as she looked down at the vampire. "Will you be back?" 

"One day," Nia told her. "When Billy turns you." At Buffy's startled look, she laughed. "Don't worry, Buffy. I can be your soul as well as his. Plus, I'm sure Angel will help, too." 

"Did you see him?" Buffy asked, nibbling on her lower lip. "How is he taking me and Spike...?" 

"That man has got some serious brooding skills," Nia said. "I don't envy you when you give him 'the talk.'" 

"You could do it," she suggested hopefully. 

"Sorry, Buffy, you and Billy are on your own," Nia said. She dropped her eyes and looked fondly at the vampire. "He's going to be hyper when he wakes up." 

"Am not," Spike muttered, rolling onto his side and snuggling up to Buffy. 

Nia smiled. "Goodbye, Buffy. Take care of him." 

"I will," Buffy replied. 

"Nia, go away," Spike mumbled against Buffy's neck. 

"Goodbye, Billy," Nia said. 

"Goodbye, Nia," Spike replied. He looked over his shoulder at the ghost. "And stop calling me Billy." 

Nia laughed, waved to them both and disappeared. 

Spike turned back and nuzzled Buffy's neck, nipping at the skin. "Now, where was I?" 

"Right about there..," Buffy said, then grinned. "...Billy." 

 

 

End


End file.
